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The  Will 
and  The  Way 


Indispensable  to  men  and  women  with  ambition  to  scale  the  heights  of 
success  and  accomplishment.  Of  priceless  value  to  all  who  desire  to 
improve  themselves  and  their  conditions.  The  first  and  only  book  to  enter 
this  new  field — the  most  important  and  the  most  helpful  book  in  the  world 
today. 


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I 


The  Will 
and  The  Way 


A  Guide  to  Self  Help 
and  Self  Development 


Indispensable  to  men  and  women  with  ambition  to  scale  the  heights  of 
success  and  accomplishment.  Of  priceless  value  to  all  who  desire  to 
improve  themselves  and  their  conditions.  The  first  and  only  book  to  enter 
this  new  field — the  most  important  and  the  most  helpful  book  in  the  world 
today. 


Dedicatorial 


To  the  men  and  women  who  are  ambitious,  and  to  those  who 
desire  to  rise  above  the  ordinary  level  of  mediocrity,  this  book  is 
earnestly  dedicated. 

To  those  who  are  in  search  after  knowledge  and  power,  it  will 
be  found  interesting  and  instructive  from  beginning  to  end. 

It  is  the  birthright  of  every  man  to  attain  success  and  happiness. 
Every  man  is  entitled  to  rise  in  the  world,  yet  every  day  we  see  thou 
sands  of  active,  able  and  conscientious  men  and  women  fall  by  the 
wayside — and  why?  It  is  because  they  do  not  know  themselves  and 
do  not  understand  how  to  use  the  powers  with  which  they  are  richly 
endowed. 

To  know  how  to  develop  and  use  these  powers,  read  every  word 
in  this  book. 

Yours  for  success, 

LEO  C.  WENDE, 
President,  Pacific  Coast  Information  Bureau,  Los  Angeles,  Cal. 


Introduction 


The  men  and  women  who  have  "done"  great  things  in  the  world 
have  been  "great"  believers,  not  so  much  believers  in  the  world  about 
them,  not  believers  in  the  history  of  the  past,  but  believers  in  their 
"own"  possibilitis. 

We  are  often  contented  to  say:  "I  can't"  do  this  or  that,  and 
are  ready  with  the  excuse  that  we  are  not  exactly  fitted  or  qualified 
for  the  accomplishment  of  some  particular  purpose,  when  the  fact  of 
the  matter  is  that  it  is  simply  a  lack  of  determination  that  stands  as 
an  obstruction  in  the  way  of  the  "full"  expression  of  our  "God-given 
powers." 

Today  men  are  attempting  more  than  ever  before  in  the  world's 
history;  and  endeavor  to  achieve  the  greatest  results  in  its  various 
lines. 

Not  only  in  one  department  of  the  world's  work  do  we  find 
this  awakening  and  falling  into  line,  but  in  every  field  of  endeavor. 
If  we  wish  to  climb  the  hills  of  achievement  and  be  in  company  with 
those  who  are  the  potent  factors  in  the  progress  of  the  time,  we 
must  become  fully  awakened  to  our  own  possibilities,  formulate  a 
definite  purpose  in  life,  fall  in  line  and  keep  step  with  the  wonderful 
advancement  of  the  present. 

No  man  has  any  valid  reason  for  being  at  the  foot  of  the  ladder 
of  success.  We  may  conjvfre  up  reasons  for  failure,  and  seek  com 
fort  and  sympathy  in  lieu  of  the  satisfaction  and  exultation  which 
come  with  the  acquisition  of  our  heart's  desire,  but  in  the  final  analysis 
of  the  proposition  the  ultimate  is  ever  the  same:  somewhere  there  was 
a  lack  of  definite  plan  in  the  undertakings  which  we  sought  to  accom 
plish.  The  fault  lay  within  ourselves.  If  the  incentive  of  ambition 
does  not  awaken  within  us  the  desire  to  accomplish  greater  things 
than  ever  before;  if  we  fail  to  note  an  increase  in  our  capacities  as 
the  days  go  by,  we  may  feel  assured  that  we  have  suffered  ourselves 
to  drop  out  of  line  and  loiter  by  the  wayside,  which  means  that  if 
we  do  not  hasten  our  lagging  steps  we  will  soon  be  far  to  the  rear  of 
the  column  of  advancement. 

The  bootblack  who  goes  forth  with  a  brave  heart,  leaving  behind 
him  in  the  dreary  home  a  little  sister  shivering  in  her  insufficient 
clothing,  telling  her  to  be  of  good  cheer,  that  he  will  work  for  her  and 
soon  find  food  and  clothing  to  make  her  happy,  shows  a  more  con 
scious  relationship  to  his  source  of  being  than  hundreds  of  those  situ 
ated  in  comfortable  quarters,  and  his  belief  in  his  ability  to  accom 
plish  his  desires  in  the  world  has  often  enabled  him  to  build  mansions 
for  his  sister  afterwards. 

That  boy  does  not  do  those  things  because  he  must.      He  feels 

399556 


within  him  that  same  impulse  welling  up  which  causes  the  plants  and 
flowers  to  grow,  that  awakens  the  little  flower  when  the  first  sunshine 
of  early  spring  warms  it.  It  is  the  impulse  of  the  inner  man  that 
answers  the  call  of  opportunity;  it  is  the  mainspring  of  human  activity 
when  a  human  soul  says,  "1  can,"  and  the  boy  goes  forth  sensible  of 
the  Infinite  harmony  in  the  world,  strengthened  and  warmed  by  the 
courage  in  his  own  heart. 

Thousands  of  individuals  are  taking  up  the  march  in  the  world's 
progress  and  accomplishment  and  the  harmony  note  of  agreement 
in  the  social,  in  the  commercial,  and  in  the  moral  life,  rings  clear 
above  every  discord  along  their  pathway. 

The  great  difference  that  exists  today  is  found  among  religious 
organizations,  and  they  are  using  every  effort  to  find  a  means  of 
uniting  their  forces.  They  are  finding,  day  by  day,  that  their  dif 
ferences  lie  more  in  small  things  than  in  any  great  ideas  promulgated. 

Religion  and  science  are  gradually  reaching  the  same  plane  of 
thought.  Their  principal  difference  lies  in  the  fact  that  religion  has 
yet  to  comprehend  the  full  meaning  of  its  own  heritage.  They  must 
awaken  to  the  fact  that  what  ever  of  power  is  manifested  comes 
from  the  God  whom  they  profess  to  worship.  They  must  comprehend 
that  the  only  positive  working  force  in  the  universe  is  the  operation  of 
Divine  Law,  and  whosoever  complies  with  that  law  gets  results. 

When  this  knowledge  comes  to  them,  they  will  no  longer  ques 
tion  as  to  whether  or  not  anything  that  makes  for  the  good  of  human 
ity  is  the  result  of  God's  power. 


The  Will  and  The  Way. 

Copyright,   1  9  1  4,  by  L.  C.  Wende 

There  are  moments  when  everything  seems  mysterious;  when  the 
mind  seems  lost  in  some  strange,  bewildered  region,  and  when  every 
effort  to  clear  the  atmosphere  of  thought  but  increases  the  darkness 
and  confusion.  Even  the  simplest  things  of  life  at  such  times  seem 
to  hide  themselves  behind  some  impenetrable  veil,  and  refuse  abso 
lutely  to  reveal  their  actions  to  our  strained  and  yearning  vision.  And 
it  was  in  the  deep  darkness  of  such  a  moment  that  Melville  Reardon 
found  himself  as  he  was  trying,  once  again  to  solve  that  problem  in  his 
life  that  had  confronted  his  tireless  ambition  so  intently  and  so  long. 

"But  there  must  be  an  answer  somewhere,"  he  thought  to  himself, 
"and  I  must  find  it  without  delay.  To  continue  longer  in  this  condi 
tion  of  confused  uncertainty  is  beyond  human  endurance;  at  any  rate, 
it  is  beyond  the  endurance  of  such  a  nature  as  mine;  and  I  here  and 
now  resolve  to  have  this  mystery  cleared  up,  even  though  every  atom 
in  my  being  should  perish  in  the  attempt." 

"My  mind  is  made  up,"  he  continued ;  "for  a  life  that  is  so  situated 
that  it  cannot  satisfy  a  single  desire  has  no  reason  to  persist  for  an 
other  moment." 

"No,  I  will  take  that  back,"  he  calmly  concluded,  after  a  few 
moments  of  reflection;  "nothing  can  live  in  vain,  even  though  exist 
ence  for  the  time  being  should  be  little  more  than  a  barren  waste.  To 
think  otherwise  is  to  contradict  all  the  facts  in  nature  and  violate 
the  very  first  principle  of  reason.  But  why  do  I  desire  so  intensely 
those  things,  and  those  things  only,  that  I  cannot  find,  that  I  cannot 
reach,  that  I  possibly  cannot  realize?  Why  have  I  been  given  the 
power  to  dream  of  the  rare,  the  rich,  the  beautiful,  the  sublime,  but 
have  not  been  given  the  power  to  make  my  dreams  come  true?" 

This  was  his  problem,  briefly  stated,  and  to  him  it  was  a  great 
problem,  indeed.  If  he  had  been  an  ordinary  man,  with  no  ability 
and  no  ambition,  his  condition  and  circumstances  could  not  have 
aroused  comment.  But  he  was  not;  all  who  knew  him  admitted  that 
he  was  a  most  remarkable  man;  in  fact,  to  meet  him  for  a  few  moments 
was  sufficient  to  come  to  this  conclusion.  And  all  wondered  why  he 
was  a  failure. 

To  begin  with,  he  was  single,  which  to  him  was  a  calamity; 
and  though  he  had  made  scores  of  attempts  to  find  someone  who 
would  receive  the  limitless  wealth  of  his  affections,  still  something 
always  came  in  the  way.  He  had  always  looked  upon  marriage  as  the 
very  climax  of  transcendental  bliss,  and  yet  he  had  been  mysteriously 
prevented  from  entering  into  that  pleasure  sublime.  What  was  the 
reason?  As  he  looked  back  upon  his  varied  experiences  in  this  con"- 


The   Will    and   The   Way 


nection,  the  mystery  of  it  all  grew  deeper  and  darker,  until  he  was 
almost  forced  to  believe  that  there  was  some  power  outside  of  himself 
that  was  mercilessly  ruling  his  destiny. 

He  was  well  educated;  his  education  was  practical,  and  he  was 
the  very  embodiment  of  ability,  talent,  character  and  admirable  qual 
ities;  and  yet  he  had  accomplished  nothing.  But  what  was  the  reason? 
Again  and  again  he  would  call  for  the  reason,  though  without  receiving 
the  slightest  hint  as  to  some  satisfactory  reply. 

"To  make  me  hungry,"  he  continued,  "and  give  me  no  means 
wherewith  to  satisfy  that  hunger  is  cruelty.  And  yet  something  is 
doing  this  very  thing  to  me.  I  am  on  fire  with  ambition,  but  every 
effort  I  make  to  realize  even  a  mere  atom  of  that  ambition  results  in 
nothing  but  failure.  I  am  hungering  and  thirsting  for  the  great,  the 
superior,  the  lofty,  the  ideal,  and  am  starving  every  day  upon  the 
husks  of  inferiority  and  nothingness.  I  am  constantly  longing  for  that 
which  I  can  neither  gain  nor  realize,  and  those  very  things  that  I  desire 
so  intensely  continue,  in  some  mysterious  manner,  to  dwell  within  the 
range  of  my  vision,  but  outside  the  range  of  my  reach.  If  I  cannot 
get  them,  why  am  I  permitted  to  see  them,  to  ceaselessly  long  for  them, 
to  be  wholly  disappointed  with  anything  else?" 

To  find  answers  to  these  questions  had  been  his  constant  effort 
for  years;  he  had  placed  the  problem  before  the  best  minds  that  he 
could  find,  but  he  was  as  much  in  the  dark  as  ever.  Again  he  pondered 
to  himself,  "If  I  have  not  the  power  to  realize  my  ideals,  why  has  my 
vision  been  opened  to  those  ideals?  Who  has  taken  the  pains  to  open 
my  eyes  to  that  which  is  not  for  me  to  possess?  Who  has  taken  the 
trouble  to  so  confuse  the  elements  of  my  being  that  I  can  desire  only 
that  which  I  possibly  cannot  reach,  no  matter  how  hard  I  try,  or 
whatever  means  I  employ?  Why  do  I  aspire  to  those  supreme  heights 
that  superhuman  nature  alone  has  the  power  to  reach?  Why  do  I  love 
only  that  mysterious  someone  that  I  never  was  able  to  find  in  tangible 
form?  What  is  the  answer?  Who  is  responsible?" 

Could  the  Supreme  be  responsible  for  his  strange  condition?  No, 
that  was  unthinkable,  for  infinite  love  could  find  no  pleasure  in  placing 
an  impassable  gulf  between  a  desire  and  the  object  of  that  desire. 
Infinite  love  would  never  create  a  desire  in  the  human  heart  without 
also  creating  the  means  through  which  that  desire  could  be  fulfilled. 
Infinite  love  would  never  reveal  an  ideal  that  could  not  be  made  real, 
nor  cause  the  soul  of  man  to  long  for  that  which  sometime,  some 
where,  would  not  be  made  true. 

Or  was  nature  responsible?  But,  if  so,  why  did  she  create  the 
demand  and  not  the  supply?  As  Melville  Reardon  approached  this 
phase  of  the  subject,  he  was  forced  to  conclude,  "If  nature  has  caused 
me  to  long  and  yearn  for  that  which  must  forever  remain  beyond  me; 
if  nature  has  caused  me  to  desire  that  which  I  can  never  secure,  and 
aspire  to  that  which  I  shall  never  reach,  then  what  is  nature  but  a  most 
colossal  deceiver?  Why  does  she  take  me  again  and  again  to  the 
very  heights  of  all  that  is  marvelous  and  sublime  and  hold  out  to  me 
the  promised  splendors  of  a  matchless  destiny  still  in  store,  and  then 


The   Will    and   The   Way 


open  my  eyes  to  the  stern  reality  of  grinding  mediocrity,  and  tell  me 
that  the  beautiful  vision  was  nothing  but  a  dream?" 

"No,  nature  cannot  be  responsible,"  he  presently  thought  to  him 
self.  "She  has  wrought  too  wonderfully  and  beautifully  to  possess  a 
single  element  of  deception.  She  makes  every  conceivable  effort  to 
equalize  demand  and  supply  in  all  her  manifold  domains;  and  if  she 
was  responsible  for  my  demand  she  would  certainly  see  that  the  re 
quired  supply  was  forthcoming.  The  cause  must  be  elsewhere." 

"Possibly,"  he  thought,  with  aroused  attention,  "it  lies  in  myself. 
Possibly  these  unsatisfied  desires  and  uncontrollable  ambitions  are 
simply  the  creations  of  my  own  mind.  But,  if  so,  there  is  a  contradic 
tion  somewhere.  If  I  have  the  power  to  remove  the  veil  of  life's 
unbounded  splendor  and  behold  the  riches  and  glory  of  ambition's 
lofty  dream,  why  have  I  not  the  power  to  realize  that  dream?  By  what 
strange  and  inexplicable  law  in  nature  can  I  create  such  intense  and 
overwhelming  desires  for  something  that  does  not  belong  in  my  world 
and  never  will?  If  the  nature  of  my  being  permits  me  to  desire  only 
that  which  I  can  never  secure,  and  aspire  only  to  that  which  I  can  never 
reach,  the  architectural  principle  of  my  mental  structure  must  be  ut 
terly  false.  But  how  can  that  mind  be  falsely  constructed  that  has  the 
power  to  mount  upon  the  very  wings  of  truth  and  ascend  to  the  shining 
splendor  of  empyrean  heights?  How  can  that  principle  of  thought 
be  false  and  deceptive  that  gives  me  the  power  to  think  thoughts 
that  are  so  lofty,  so  high,  so  beautiful  and  so  gorgeously  sublime  that 
a  million  tongues  would  be  required  to  give  expression  to  their  won 
drous  power  and  glory?" 

"But  what  can  the  answer  be?"  The  more  he  thought  of  it,  the 
more  difficult  and  complex  the  problem  seemed  to  become.  The  more 
he  tried  to  penetrate  the  mental  darkness  that  was  before  him  the 
heavier  and  more  dense  became  the  darkness  that  met  his  straining 
vision.  What  should  he  do?  He  must  do  something.  He  could  no 
longer  bear  to  see  so  much  ability,  so  much  ambition  and  so  much 
energy  as  he  possessed  go  to  waste.  True,  he  could  make  a  living;  but 
anyone  in  health  could  do  that.  To  accomplish  something  of  great 
and  extraordinary  worth  was  another  matter;  and  he  knew  that  h^ 
had  the  necessary  power  to  do  this.  That  power  had  been  going 
wrong,  but  why?  That  power  must  be  turned  into  its  proper  channel, 
but  how?  With  a  desire  more  deep  and  more  intense  than  he  had 
ever  felt  before,  every  atom  in  his  being  was  aroused  to  the  very 
highest  pitch  of  determined  resolve,  and  he  vowed  then  and  there 
that  he  would  find  the  answer.  Through  the  great  intensity  of  this 
action  of  his  thought  he  was  suddenly  awakened  from  his  reverie,  and 
found  himself  face  to  face  with  his  employer. 

"Dreaming  again,   Mr.   Reardon?" 

"Yes,  Mr.  Spaulding,  dreaming  again;  though  not  so  much  dream 
ing  as  pondering  over  the  mystery  of  it  all." 

"Mystery  of  what?" 

"Why  that  something  that  gave  us  the  power  to  dream  did  not 
give  us  the  power  to  make  our  dreams  come  true." 


8  The  Will   and   The  Way 

"Oh,  there's  no  mystery  about  that  at  all,  Mr.  Reardon.  Quit 
dreaming  so  much  and  yearning  so  much,  and  get  down  to  harder 
work.  That's  all  that's  necessary.  You  will  soon  get  what  you  want." 

"You  are  a  successful  man,  Mr.  Spaulding,  and  I  a  complete 
failure;  nevertheless,  I  cannot  agree  with  you." 

"Then  how  do  you  account  for  my  success  and  the  success  of  all 
men  that  have  used  the  same  method?" 

"And  will  you  kindly  tell  me  what  your  method  consists  of? 
Also,  how  it  is  learned  and  applied?" 

"Yes,  it  is  work;  just  work;  and  then  more  work.  There  is  only 
one  way  to  succeed,  and  that  way  is  work." 

"But  is  there  no  place  for  ability  or  genius  in  your  system?  Are 
those  to  be  considered  non-essentials?" 

"No,  not  at  all,  for  genius  is  simply  extraordinary  capacity  for 
work.  Ability,  talent  and  genius  in  all  their  forms  are  simply  varying 
degrees  of  working  capacity.  The  term  'work'  covers  it  all,  and  the 
greatest  workers  accomplish  the  most  invariably." 

"You  have  lived  longer  than  I,  Mr.  Spaulding,  and  you  have  ac 
complished  much.  You  are,  or,  rather,  seem  to  be,  a  living  example 
of  the  doctrine  you  preach;  but  I  cannot  agree  with  you.  Your  doc 
trine  does  not  fit  my  case;  nor  does  it  fit  the  case  of  thousands  like 
myself.  No  one  has  worked  harder  or  more  faithfully  than  I;  but,  as 
you  know,  I  have  nothing.  I  have  accomplished  nothing:  and,  in  the 
eyes  of  successful  men,  I  am  nothing." 

"You  have  been  here  with  me  only  a  few  weeks,  and  that  you 
have  great  capacity  for  work  is  evident  to  me;  but  if  you  have  worked 
just  as  faithfully  all  your  life  as  you  have  during  the  time  spent  here, 
I  cannot  understand  why  you  should  not  be  a  great  success  today." 

"That  is  precisely  the  very  thing  that  I  am  unable  to  understand. 
I  have  stated  my  case  to  the  most  brilliant  and  the  most  successful 
men  that  I  could  possibly  find,  but  they  all  failed  to  understand,  just 
as  you  do,  why  I  am  a  failure.  I  admit  that  work,  and  much  work, 
is  necessary;  and  there  is  nothing  that  I  love  better  than  work;  but 
there  must  be  something  else  back  of  a  successful  career  besides  work. 
If  work  was  the  only  essential,  I  would  be  a  millionaire  today." 

"You  may  be  impatient,  Mr.  Reardon.  You  know  you  are  only 
thirty,  and  there  are  many  of  our  most  successful  men  today  that  had 
accomplished  nothing  at  your  age.  In  fact,  some  of  them  were  com 
plete  failures  until  forty,  and  even  later.  This  proves  that  there  is 
plenty  of  hope  for  everybody  who  wants  to  push  to  the  front.  They 
will  all  finally  reach  their  goal.  And  so  will  you.  Just  keep  at  it. 
One  of  these  days  things  will  take  a  turn." 

"It  is  very  good  of  you,  Mr.  Spaulding,  to  speak  to  me  like  that. 
But  the  fact  is,  I  have  been  keeping  at  it  for  nine  years,  and  you  see 
the  results.  I  have  made  a  resolution  today,  however,  that  I  feel, 
somehow,  will  clear  the  mystery.  I  am  going  to  find  out  where  my 
ambitions  and  desires  originate.  There  must  be  someone  in  this  world 
who  knows.  When  I  discover  the  power  that  is  back  of  my  ambition, 


The   Will    and   The   Way 


I  may  also  discover  that  power  that  can  make  my  ambitions  come  true. 
It  seems  to  me  that  the  two  powers  must  come  from  the  same  source. 
At  any  rate,  I  am  going  to  search  the  world  over  until  I  find  someone 
who  can  tell  me  what  I  wish  to  know  in  this  important  matter." 

"You  are  going  into  the  mystery  of  things  rather  deeply,  are  you 
not,  Mr.  Reardon?  According  to  my  view,  success  lies  in  the  other 
direction.  In  a  way  I  admire  you  for  wanting  to  get  down  to  rock 
bottom,  but  be  careful  that  you  do  not  become  a  mystical  philosopher 
instead  of  a  man  of  practical  achievement.  Personally,  I  think  very 
little  of  the  man  who  simply  speculates  about  things.  My  ideal  man 
is-  the  man  who  does  things." 

"There  we  agree  perfectly,  Mr.  Spaulding.  I  want  to  do  things. 
That  is  the  reason  why  I  wish  to  understand  that  power  that  can  carry 
my  ambition  through.  But  we  have  talked  enough  for  the  present;  the 
afternoon  is  slipping  away,  and  I  have  nearly  a  day's  work  that  ought 
to  be  finished  before  I  go  home.  You  know,  it  was  always  my  privi 
lege  to  have  to  do  the  work  of  several  men.  Every  position  I  ever 
held  confronted  me  with  that  circumstance;  but  I  never  received  more 
than  the  pay  of  half  a  man.  And  therein  lies  another  mystery.  I  am 
resolved,  however,  to  find  someone  who  can  help  me  clear  it  all  up, 
and  I  was  never  more  determined  in  my  life.  In  fact,  for  the  first 
time  in  my  life  my  determination  seems  inspired  with  a  power  that  will 
not  give  in." 


II 

The  two  men  parted,  without  saying  anything  further,  and  re 
sumed  their  respective  duties.  Richard  Spaulding  went  to  his  private 
office  and  Melville  Reardon  to  what  he  considered  the  drudgery  of  a 
minor  clerk.  But  during  the  hours  that  followed  he  worked  in  a  dif 
ferent  mood  than  he  had  ever  known  before.  He  seemed  to  be  two 
personalities;  the  one  proceeding  mechanically  with  the  details  of  the 
task  before  him,  the  other  pondering,  as  if  in  another  world,  wondering 
what  the  outcome  of  his  new  resolution  would  be.  His  mind  was  made 
up,  however;  he  was  determined  to  see  his  purpose  through,  come 
whatever  may;  and  the  thought  of  it  all  gave  him  an  interest  in  the 
coming  days  that  was  rapidly  becoming  extreme  fascination. 

Thus  he  continued  until  nearly  the  close  of  the  afternoon,  when 
his  attention  was  aroused  by  the  beginning  of  an  event  that  was  to 
change  his  entire  future.  Little  did  he  dream,  as  he  was  pondering 
over  his  problem  a  few  hours  before,  that  that  day  would  witness  the 
creation  of  a  great  desire  and  the  fulfillment  of  that  same  desire,  all 
within  the  space  of  nine  short  hours.  But  things  were  moving  rapidly 
in  his  life  that  day,  and  he  did  not  realize  that  his  new  and  determined 
resolution  was  the  cause.  Though  it  was  to  be  a  new  experience  to 
him,  a  new  and  great  day  in  his  budding  career.  How  often  had 
he  shed  bitter  tears  over  the  grim  fact  that  his  cherished  desires  we're 
never  fulfilled,  his  ambitions  never  realized,  his  dreams  never  made 


10  The   Will    and    The   Way 


true;  but  a  new  day  had  dawned;  things  had  begun  to  take  a  turn 
far  sooner  than  expected,  and  a  great  change  was  coming  over  the 
spirit  of  his  yearning  soul. 

"May  I  see  Mr.  Spaulding?"  inquired  a  large,  smooth-faced  gen 
tleman,  with  strong  features,  noble  bearing  and  a  kindly  expression, 
that  was  quietly  approaching  Melville  Reardon's  desk. 

"Certainly,"  was  the  prompt  reply.  "Kindly  give  me  your  name, 
and  I  will  have  Mr.  Spaulding  see  you  at  once." 

"My  name  is  Alexander  Whiting,"  he  replied,  and  there  was  a 
calmness  and  a  gentle  strength  in  his  tone  that  caused  everybody 
within  hearing  distance  to  pause  and  wonder  who  this  could  be;  he 
seemed  so  different. 

In  a  moment  Mr.  Spaulding  appeared,  and  the  splendid  gentle 
man  before  them  began  to  announce  his  errand. 

"I  met  a  friend  on  the  street  a  few  minutes  ago,"  he  continued, 
after  a  few  preliminary  remarks,  "and  he  told  me  that  you  wanted  to 
sell  your  house,  Mr.  Spaulding.  Accordingly  I  lost  no  time  in  coming 
to  learn  if  it  were  true,  because  Mrs.  Whiting  and  myself  have  for 
some  time  desired  to  live  in  that  particular  section  of  the  city.  But 
our  only  hope  was  in  finding  someone  who  wanted  to  sell  his  residence, 
as  there  are  no  more  vacant  lots  there  to  be  secured." 

"That  is  the  truth,  Mr.  Whiting.  My  house  is  for  sale;  but  how 
your  friend  came  to  know  it  is  a  mystery  to  me.  I  never  mentioned  it 
to  a  single  soul  until  today.  I  told  a  distant  relative  while  he  was  at 
lunch  with  me;  but  he  left  immediately  for  the  train,  and  I  saw  him 
off.  He  could  not  have  told  anyone  in  this  city.  Someone  must  have 
overheard  our  conversation.  However,  I  am  very  glad  that  you  found 
it  out  so  soon,  Mr.  Whiting,  and  you  may  state  your  own  time  to  come 
and  examine  the  property." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Spaulding;  I  will  speak  with  Mrs.  Whiting  to 
night  concerning  the  best  time.  She  will  be  most  happy  to  learn  of  this 
opportunity,  and  she  will  say,  as  usual,  'Another  case  of  persistent 
desire.'  You  know  we  have  almost  unlimited  faith  in  persistent  desire, 
and  I  feel  it  a  privilege  to  speak  a  good  word  for  the  power  of  per 
sistent  desire  whenever  the  occasion  presents  itself." 

"Beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Whiting,  for  listening  to  private  conver 
sation,"  interrupted  Melville  Reardon,  his  face  flushed  with  eager  ex 
pectation,  "but  will  you  kindly  tell  me  what  you  mean  by  the  power 
of  persistent  desire?  That  expression  seems  to  have  a  fascination  for 
me,  and  I  feel  that  I  simply  must  find  out  what  it  means." 

"That  makes  me  happy,  indeed,"  Mr.  Whiting  replied,  his  face 
beaming  with  a  smile  that  had  more  sunshine  in  it  than  an  other  smile 
Melville  Reardon  had  ever  seen.  "If  you  are  fascinated  by  that 
expression,"  he  continued,  "you  will  soon  understand  it.  And  it  is 
my  conviction  that  when  you  do  understand  it  you  will  have  the  power 
to  build  your  own  future  as  you  like." 

In  a  moment  the  mind  of  Melville  Reardon  was  trembling  with 
uncontrollable  eagerness  as  his  thoughts  were  wildly  flying  hither  and 
thither  in  a  strange  sea  of  unutterable  emotion;  his  face  was  a  study 


The   Will   and   The   Way  1  1 

in  crimson,  then  white,  then  crimson  again,  and  his  tongue  refused  to 
obey.  This  was  certainly  too  much.  A  few  hours  ago  he  had  made 
a  resolution,  and  had  inspired  that  resolution  with  intense  desire  and 
determination;  and  now,  even  before  the  day  was  done,  a  stranger  had 
mysteriously  come  into  his  presence  to  tell  him  the  very  thing  he 
wanted  to  know.  What  was  the  meaning  of  it  all?  Was  this  another 
case  of  persistent  desire?  But  how  could  it  work  so  soon?  Was  it 
because,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  he  had  given  the  whole  of  his  life 
to  the  spirit  of  his  desire?  If  so,  the  secret  for  which  he  had  longed 
and  yearned  and  prayed  these  many  years  was  being  revealed  at  last. 
And  what  would  the  future  be?  Would  he  realize  the  one  ruling  am 
bition  of  his  life,  and  would  he  find  her?  A  million  thoughts  were 
crowding  in  upon  his  mind,  and  he  seemed  to  live  a  thousand  years 
with  every  breath.  But  he  was  only  passing  through  a  storm  of  mental 
perturbation;  he  was  not  taking  advantage  of  Mr.  Whiting's  presence 
to  get  at  the  vital  facts.  Soon  he  realize  this,  and  made  a  supreme 
effort  to  gain  sufficient  self-control  to  speak.  Presently  he  continued: 
"Mr.  Whiting,  I  have  hundreds  of  questions  to  ask.  I  must  have  this 
subject  cleared  up  at  once.  Can  you  tell  me  how,  where  and  when  it 
might  be  done?" 

"I  certainly  can,"  Mr.  Whiting  replied,  with  a  smile  that  con 
tained  even  more  sunshine  than  the  one  before.  "Mrs.  Whiting  and 
myself  shall  be  most  happy  indeed  to  have  you  call  tonight.  We  can 
tell  you  a  great  deal  about  how  we  passed  from  poverty,  sickness  and 
trouble  to  health,  happiness  and  plenty.  And  I  shall  try  to  have  Cyril 
Janos,  the  man  who  first  gave  us  the  secret,  come  also.  He  can  answer 
all  your  questions,  and  tell  you  exactly  how  to  proceed  from  where  you 
are  now." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Whiting,  if  I  had  a  million  hearts,  I  could  thank  you  a 
million  times  with  every  one  of  them.  Surely  my  gratitude  is  un 
bounded,  and  my  joy  supreme.  What  a  wonderful  afternoon  this  has 
been.  It  has  changed  everything;  it  has  turned  all  my  views  upside 
down,  and  I  seem  to  see  the  entire  cosmos  through  some  newly  acquired 
vision.  But  the  change  is  wonderful;  it  will  take  months,  I  am  sure, 
before  I  can  become  accustomed  to  the  beauty  and  the  glory  of  it  all. 
But  tell  me,  who  is  Cyril  Janos?  If  he  knows  these  great  secrets  he 
must  be  most  extraordinary;  and  if  so,  why  have  I  not  heard  of  him 
before?  I  hope  he  is  not  a  man  of  mystery,  for  I  have  had  too  much 
of  the  mysterious  already." 

"No,  indeed,  there  is  nothing  mysterious  about  Cyril  Janos;  he 
is  one  of  the  few  who  has  practically  eliminated  mystery  from  his 
life.  But  he  is  not  working  for  the  public  as  yet,  and  he  blows  no 
trumpet,  because  he  is  otherwise  engaged.  He  is  too  busy  getting  down 
to  the  rock  bottom  of  human  life,  human  thought,  human  power  and 
human  possibility.  He  is  what  may  be  termed  a  master  mind  in  the 
new  school  of  psychology,  though  his  field  of  study  embraces  every 
thing  that  is  contained  in  the  human  domain.  Or,  you  may  call  him 
a  scientist  of  the  new  type,  as  he  differs  from  earlier  scientists  in  this 
respect,  that  he  wastes  no  time  on  the  weighing  and  comparing  of 


\2 The  Will   and   The  Way 

effects  regardless  of  cause.  He  is  devoting  his  life  to  the  study  of 
causes,  or  rather  the  undercurrents  and  origins  of  thought,  action,  feel 
ing,  desire,  will,  ambition  and  the  hundreds  of  factors  and  forces  that 
arise  in  the  vastness  of  the  mental  domain." 

"At  last!"  shouted  Melville  Reardon,  as  he  threw  his  arms  in  the 
air,  and  actually  danced  with  the  frenzy  of  uncontrollable  glee.  "Now," 
he  continued,  "1  shall  learn  where  my  ambitions  originate,  and  where 
those  powers  may  be  found  that  can  push  my  ambitions  through. 
Yes,  at  last  my  day  has  come;  the  turning  point  in  my  life  is  at  hand, 
and  with  all  the  power  of  my  soul  I  declare  it,  that  my  future  shall  be  as 
brilliant  as  the  noon-day  sun." 

The  brilliancy  of  his  future  was  yet  to  be  revealed,  but  his  face 
certainly  did  shine  as  he  made  this  great  and  inspiring  declaration. 
A  new  light  had  come  into  his  life,  and  it  was  so  strong  that  it  glorified 
his  countenance  with  the  radiant  sunshine  of  his  beautiful,  illumined 
soul.  To  Mr.  Whiting,  the  transformation  that  was  taking  place  in  the 
soul  of  that  brilliant  young  man,  was  a  sight  that  he  would  have  lived 
a  lifetime  to  see;  and  he  would  have  gone  to  any  part  of  the  world  just 
to  behold  such  a  sight  once  more. 

"One  more  question,  Mr.  Whiting,  please,  before  you  go,"  he 
continued,  as  he  momentarily  came  down  from  the  lofty  pinnacle  of 
his  famous  declaration.  "You  have  conquered  adversity;  you  are 
building  your  own  future  as  you  choose,  and  you  understand  some  of 
the  greatest  truths  in  the  universe;  how,  then,  can  you  be  so  calm  and 
self-possessed  about  it  all?  It  seems  to  me  that  you  ought  to  be  on 
fire  with  enthusiasm." 

"The  fact  that  I  am  not  on  fire  with  enthusiasm  is  one  of  my 
secrets,  Mr.  Reardon.  If  you  would  conquer  adversity  you  must  first 
conquer,  or  rather  control,  yourself;  and  one  of  the  chief  essentials  in 
this  direction  is  to  be  calm  and  self-possessed." 

With  this  happy  though  Mr.  Whiting  left  the  office,  leaving  Mr. 
Spaulding  and  Mr.  Reardon  viewing  each  other's  mingled  expressions 
in  a  manner  that  pen  could  not  possibly  describe.  Strange  things  had 
happened  that  afternoon,  and  coming  developments  seemed  to  indi 
cate  that  still  stranger  things  would  happen  in  the  near  future.  That 
the  two  men  hardly  knew  what  to  say  to  each  other  at  the  close  of 
such  a  day,  and  upon  the  departure  of  such  a  visitor,  was  not  a  matter, 
therefore,  of  surprise.  Finally,  Mr.  Spaulding  broke  the  silence  as  he 
ventured:  "I  am  certainly  curious  to  know  what  Cyril  Janos  is  going 
to  tell  you  tonight,  and  I  shall  consider  it  a  great  favor  if  you  will  say 
something  to  me  about  it  in  the  morning." 

"Most  assuredly,  I  will  tell  you  everything  that  is  not  strictly 
private,  and  I  do  not  presume  that  any  of  his  remarks  will  be  of  that 
nature;  at  any  rate,  not  this  time.  But,  Mr.  Spaulding,  will  you  do  me 
a  favor  in  return?" 

"With  the  greatest  of  pleasure,  Mr.  Reardon." 

"It  is  not  at  all  polite  for  me  to  ask,  and  I  shall  not  feel  offended 
in  the  least  if  you  refuse  to  answer  my  question;  but  it  does  seem  strange 
to  me  that  you  intend  to  dispose  of  that  beautiful  home." 


The   Will   and   The   Way 


"Yes,  it  will  seem  strange  to  all  my  friends  and  acquaintances; 
but  I  am  doing  it  for  the  sake  of  my  daughter.  You  know  Adeline  is 
a  very  peculiar  girl.  She  always  did  live  in  a  different  world  from  the 
rest  of  us,  but  since  her  mother  passed  away  three  years  ago  she  has 
been  more  transcendental  than  ever  before.  And  the  strangest  part  of 
it  is  that  that  mental  attitude  seems  to  fit  her  so  perfectly.  She  is 
actually  growing  more  beautiful  and  more  fascinating  every  year.  To 
the  young  men  who  know  her  she  is  absolutely  irresistible;  she  is  con 
stantly  having  offers  of  marriage,  and  the  most  splendid  offers;  but  she 
rejects  them  all.  She  says  she  will  not  marry  until  she  meets  the 
'idol  of  her  dreams,'  or  what  she  sometimes  calls  'a  certain  kind  of 
a  man.'  What  she  means  by  that  I  don't  know;  but  I  do  know  that 
she  will  never  find  that  'certain  kind.'  Such  men  do  not  exist,  and  1 
am  going  to  take  her  all  over  the  world  so  she  may  lose  her  illusion 
and  learn  to  love  some  kind  of  a  man  that  does  exist.  I  want  her 
to  marry,  and  if  she  will  simply  come  down  to  earth  a  little  and  be 
sensible  on  matters  of  human  nature,  she  can  marry,  and  marry  very 
well,  any  day  she  may  choose.  But  what  is  the  matter,  Mr.  Reardon? 
Why,  you  are  blushing  like  a  girl." 

"I  would  like  to  tell  you,  Mr.  Spaulding;  in  fact,  I  must  tell  some 
body  soon,  but  not  now.  My  system  is  keyed  up  too  high  from  what 
I  have  passed  through  today,  and  if  I  should  mention  this  other  matter, 
there  might  be  a  reaction,  and  then  a  break-down." 

"Another  mystery,  is  it?  But  you  are  certainly  filled  and  sur 
rounded  with  mysteries;  and  all  of  them  seem  to  be  overhung  with 
dark  and  threatening  clouds.  Tell  me,  Mr.  Reardon,  you  are  not  in 
love,  are  you?" 

"I  am,  and  I  am  not." 

"Ah,  you  love  someone  whom  you  are  not  permitted  to  love." 

"No,  not  that.  You  can  never  guess,  Mr.  Spaulding,  and  yet  you 
know  all  about  it." 

"Well,  if  you  are  not  the  strangest  young  man  I  ever  saw.  The 
moment  I  think  I  understand  you  perfectly,  you  do  something  or  say 
something  that  leaves  me  more  in  the  dark  than  ever  before.  You 
must  have  had  some  great  love  affair  in  the  past  that  turned  out  sadly. 
Am  I  right?" 

"No,  you  are  not.      I  never  had  a  real  love  affair  in  my  life." 

"What,  a  handsome,  brilliant  young  man  of  thirty,  literally  boil 
ing  over  with  emotion  and  affection,  and  never  had  a  love  affair?  No, 
that  is  too  much  to  believe." 

"Nevertheless,  that  is  the  truth.  Though  I  admit  it  is  the  truth 
from  a  certain  point  of  view  only,  and  not  the  truth  from  all  points 
of  view." 

"Say  nothing  more,  Mr.  Reardon.  The  more  you  talk  about 
yourself  the  more  convinced  I  become  that  there  is  something  in  your 
nature  that  needs  to  be  disentangled.  You  seem  to  have  the  power 
to  be  everything,  and  yet,  as  you  say,  you  are  nothing.  What  is  the 
answer?  You  need  a  physician  of  some  kind,  and  very  much.  And 
I  shall  certainly  be  glad  if  that  is  what  you  will  find  tonight." 


14  The  Will  and  The  Way 

"That  is  the  truth,  Mr.  Spaulding.  Again  I  agree  with  you  per 
fectly.  But  if  I  should  tell  you  everything  that  1  have  passed  through 
during  the  last  nine  years,  you  would  positively  become  speechless  with 
astonishment  and  surprise.  They  say  that  truth  is  stranger  than  fic 
tion;  but  my  experience  is  even  stranger  than  truth.  If  you  wish,  I  will 
tell  you  all  about  it  in  the  near  future.  And  tomorrow  1  will  tell  you 
about  my  experience  tonight.  You  may  then  conclude  that  you  will 
also  want  to  know  something  about  'origins'  and  'undercurrents'  in  the 
human  mind." 

"I  don't  doubt  it  in  the  least,  Mr.  Reardon.  I  admit  that  I  have 
an  intense  desire  to  go  with  you;  but  I  am  not  invited." 

"In  that  case  1  will  intercede  for  you,  and  do  my  very  best  to 
get  you  an  invitation  for  next  time.  But  I  must  go  home  and  get 
ready  for  this  disentanglement  in  my  life.  I  don't  claim  to  be  prophetic, 
but  I  feel  it  coming,  and  I  somehow  seem  to  know  that  all  my  griefs, 
my  sorrows,  my  disappointments  and  my  failures  are  at  an  end.  Some 
thing  seems  to  be  singing  in  my  soul;  it  seems  to  be  an  endless  joy- 
song,  for  all  I  can  hear  is,  'Joy  cometh  in  the  morning.'  Good-night, 
Mr.  Spaulding,  and  remember  me  kindly  to  Adeline." 


Ill 

When  Richard  Spaulding  came  home  that  night  he  bore  an  ex 
pression  that  was  new  to  Adeline.  He  seemed  to  be  half-sad,  some 
thing  she  had  never  noticed  before,  and  she  silently  wondered  what 
was  on  his  mind.  But  she  had  little  opportunity  to  wonder  very  long 
about  that  phase  of  his  expression,  because  she  could  see  something 
else  in  his  face;  and  that  something  else  aroused  both  curiosity  and 
joy  in  her  keenly  observing  mind.  Her  father  seemed  to  be  a  dif 
ferent  man  that  night.  Though  he  had  always  seemed  to  her  a  re 
markable  man,  so  much  of  a  man  that  his  nature,  during  his  best 
moments,  seemed  almost  identical  with  the  "idol  of  her  dreams;" 
but  on  that  night  he  seemed  to  be  more  of  a  man  than  he  had  ever 
been  before.  She  could  distinctly  discern  that  something  new,  some 
thing  greater,  something  more  noble  had  been  awakened  in  his  soul, 
and  she  was  so  delighted  that  it  was  only  with  great  difficulty  that 
she  controlled  her  desire  to  ask  how  it  all  happened. 

Nothing  was  said,  however,  about  the  change  that  she  observed 
so  distinctly.  She  did  not  inquire,  and  he  did  not  venture  to  explain. 
He  knew  he  felt  differently,  and  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  thought 
he  could  understand  the  real  nature  of  his  charming  daughter.  "She 
is  more  than  clay,"  he  mused  to  himself;  "and  that  is  why  everybody 
loves  her,  nay  more,  worships  her.  But  why  should  we  not  all  be 
more  than  clay?  Are  we  afraid  of  that  something  in  human  nature 
that  cannot  be  seen,  or  weighed  or  measured?  We  seem  to  be,  for 
most  of  us  fail  to  give  a  single  thought  to  the  recognition  and  making 
evident  of  that  something.  And  yet  it  is  this  immaterial  something 
that  makes  woman  beautiful  and  man  great." 


The   Will   and   The   Way  15 

Thus  he  mused  and  thought  and  pondered,  alternating  with  fre 
quent  prayers  of  silent  gratitude.  What  a  privilege  he  enjoyed  in 
being  at  home  with  beautiful  Adeline.  How  lovely  it  was  to  be  in 
her  presence,  the  reigning  goddess  of  his  heart.  And  yet  he  had  said 
that  very  day  that  he  wanted  to  take  her  around  the  world  in  order 
that  he  might  give  her  away  to  some  one  who  possibly  would  never 
understand  her  nature  or  appreciate  her  superior  worth.  Why  had 
he  told  his  relative  that  he  wanted  to  sell  his  house?  He  had  never 
thought  of  doing  so  until  that  very  hour  they  were  at  lunch.  And 
why  did  somebody  overhear  it?  Why  should  that  somebody  acci 
dentally  meet  Mr.  Whiting  the  very  next  hour?  Why  did  it  all  hap 
pen,  anyway?  How  wonderfully  strange  it  all  seemed.  But  he  was 
certainly  grateful  that  it  all  did  happen.  He  had  met  Mr.  Whiting, 
which  he  considered  a  great  privilege.  He  knew  it  would  mean  the 
turning  of  the  tide  for  Melville  Reardon,  and  that  brilliant  young  man 
certainly  deserved  the  very  best  that  this  world  can  give.  Besides, 
he,  himself,  the  rich  and  successful  Richard  Spaulding,  was  myster 
iously  drawn  to  those  ideas  that  were  to  be  discussed  at  the  home  of 
the  Whitings  that  night.  Why  did  he  want  to  know  anything  about 
those  matters?  He  had  accomplished  so  much.  What  more  did  he 
want?  He  repeated  again  and  again,  "What  more  did  he  want?" 
Yes,  there  was  something  more.  He  had  accumulated  things;  he  was 
surrounded  with  luxuries;  he  was  living  in  an  elegant  mansion;  no, 
he  was  not  living;  there  was  the  aching  void.  He  wanted  to  live; 
that  was  the  something  more  that  was  wanted.  On  that  night  he 
seemed  to  be  on  the  verge  of  real  life,  and  the  foretaste  was  creating 
an  intense  desire  for  more.  He  knew  Mr.  Whiting  was  living,  not 
simply  existing.  He  knew  that  Mr.  Whiting  had  something,  what 
ever  it  was,  that  seemed  more  fascinating  than  all  the  wealth  in  the 
world.  But  Mr.  Whiting  also  had  wealth,  ability,  health,  a  strong, 
vigorous  personality  and  any  amount  of  common  sense.  That  some 
thing  was  an  addition  and  not  a  subtraction.  Why  should  not  every 
body  want  it?  "Yes,"  he  said,  almost  aloud,  "everybody  would 
want  it  if  they  knew  what  it  was." 

There  was  but  little  conversation  between  Adeline  and  her  father 
that  night.  She  saw  that  he  was  thinking  of  something  very  impor 
tant  and  she  would  not  interrupt.  She  had  the  happy  faculty  of 
adapting  herself  perfectly  to  anyone's  condition  or  frame  of  mind, 
and  whatever  the  occasion  might  demand,  she  always  looked  upon 
it  all  as  a  privilege.  She  was  a  real  girl,  indeed ;  charming  in  person, 
lovely  in  mind  and  beautiful  in  soul.  And  how  supremely  happy  sne 
was  ever  and  ever  looking  for  him;  always  waiting  for  the  "idol  of 
her  dreams."  When  would  he  come?  She  didn't  know.  Where 
would  she  meet  him?  She  didn't  know.  How  would  she  find  him, 
or  he  find  her?  She  didn't  know.  But  somehow  she  felt  that  some 
thing  would  soon  happen  to  bring  her  into  the  presence  of  her  own. 
And  the  thought  of  that  sublime  event  made  her  nature  so  sweet,  so 
pure  and  so  divinely  beautiful,  that  to  meet  her,  though  only  for  a 
moment,  was  to  worship  her  memory  always. 


16  The  Will   and   The  Way 

Since  the  passing  of  her  mother,  Adeline  had  been  the  ruling 
spirit  of  that  beautiful  home,  and  most  charmingly  did  she  exercise 
her  queenly  function.  She  ruled  as  if  she  were  absolute  monarch, 
without  making  any  effort  whatever  to  do  so.  To  simply  be  in  her 
presence  was  to  be  willing,  nay  more,  anxious,  to  do  whatever  she 
might  wish  to  have  done.  She  seemed  to  carry  about  her  an  atmos 
phere  that  gave  peace  and  comfort  to  everybody;  and  though  only 
twenty-two,  she  could  enter  understandingly  into  a  sympathetic  atti 
tude  with  every  imaginable  trouble  in  the  world;  and  she  could  also 
find  the  happy  word  or  deed  that  meant  sunshine  to  all  who  might 
come  her  way.  To  be  with  Adeline,  just  for  a  few  moments;  that 
was  enough;  and  all  was  well  again.  But  she  was  not  a  soul  apart 
from  the  world.  She  was  thoroughly  human  in  every  sense  of  that 
term,  but  the  human  elements  in  her  nature  were  so  wonderfully 
blended,  that  wherever  she  might  be,  she  was  invariably  singled  out 
as  the  one  human  rose  in  bloom.  And  it  was  such  a  woman  Mr. 
Spaulding  had  the  privilege  to  meet  every  evening  as  he  came  home. 
How  could  he  ever  thing  of  giving  her  away  to  a  mere  man?  But  it 
was  her  happiness  he  had  in  mind,  and  he  wanted  to  arrange  for  her 
a  splendid  match.  To  Adeline,  however,  a  splendid  match  did  not 
necessarily  mean  marriage  with  a  rich  man's  son.  It  might  be  that, 
but  it  might  also  be  more;  and  the  time  was  drawing  near  when  her 
father  would  discover  that  priceless  treasure  that  was  hidden  within 
the  more. 

How  different  was  everything  in  what  Melville  Reardon  called 
his  home.  Just  a  small  room  on  the  third  floor  of  a  building  that 
had  known  better  days.  Nothing  much  there  to  invite,  to  cheer,  to 
inspire.  True,  he  had  reasonable  human  comfort,  but  he  was  not 
living  and  working  simply  for  ordinary  comfort.  He  wanted  to  ac 
complish  something.  He  knew  he  had  the  ability.  He  knew  he  had 
the  power.  That  was  the  reason  it  was  so  hard  to  admit  that  he 
had  failed.  Had  it  been  possible  to  silence  his  ambitions,  he  might 
have  been  able  to  reconcile  himself  to  the  mere  earning  of  a  living; 
and  he  had  frequently  tried  to  persuade  himself  that  his  ambitions 
were  abnormal,  mere  tempers  that  could  not  be  destroyed  too  soon. 
But  such  efforts  were  in  vain.  His  ambitions  and  his  desires  for  the 
great  and  the  extraordinary  had  been  growing  stronger  every  day 
until  they  had  become  almost  unendurable.  It  was  therefore  not  a 
matter  of  choice  but  a  matter  of  absolute  necessity  that  he  had  re 
solved,  with  such  tremendous  determination,  to  clear  up  the  mystery 
of  it  all  upon  that  eventful  afternoon. 

He  realized  this  as  he  was  coming  home  to  get  ready  for  a  still 
more  eventful  night,  and  asked  himself  again  and  again  what  the  rea 
son  might  be.  Why  had  he  not  taken  steps  to  solve  the  mystery  of 
his  life  before?  Why  had  he  waited  until  he  could  endure  the  wild 
clamorings  of  his  ambitions  no  more?  He  had  not  taken  this  step 
himself.  He  had  been  forced  to  do  it  by  the  internal  warfare  of  his 
own  desires.  But  how  had  he  produced  those  desires?  Why  had 


The   Will   and   The   Way  17 

those  desires  become  stronger  and  stronger  until  he  could  not  resist 
them  any  longer? 

He  would  willingly  have  destroyed  his  ambitions  at  any  time 
for  the  sake  of  peace;  but  he  could  not;  and  now  they  had  forced  him 
to  do  something  definite  in  order  that  their  purpose  might  be  ful 
filled.  How  strange  it  all  seemed,  and  how  interesting  it  would  be 
to  know  where  those  ambitions  originated,  where  they  received  their 
power,  and  how  they  could  become  so  strong  as  to  dominate  the 
entire  life  of  the  man  in  whose  mind  they  lived  and  grew.  But  he 
would  secure  the  facts  in  this  great  matter  tonight;  and  as  he  thought 
of  the  coming  privilege  his  joy  was  without  bounds.  He  actually 
counted  the  seconds  until  it  was  time  to  go,  and  he  found  it  prac 
tically  impossible  to  apply  his  first  lesson — to  be  calm  and  self- 
possessed. 

The  time  to  go,  however,  finally  arrived,  and  in  twenty  minutes 
he  had  reached  his  destination.  As  he  entered  the  fashionable  Ravona 
and  walked  to  the  second  floor  to  the  Whiting  apartment,  there  was 
a  feeling  of  awe  and  half  dread  coming  over  him,  but  as  the  door 
was  opened  and  he  was  introduced  to  the  queenly  Mrs.  Whiting,  all 
unnatural  thoughts  and  emotions  disappeared.  He  felt  at  once  that 
he  was  among  friends,  and  it  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  felt  that 
way  in  his  life. 

In  the  past  he  could  never  quite  believe  that  his  friends  were 
truly  his  friends.  Though  he  loved  them  and  sought  every  oppor 
tunity  possible  to  be  with  them,  still  there  seemed  to  be  a  gulf  be 
tween  their  worlds  and  his  world.  They  either  seemed  to  be  in 
capable  of  fully  appreciating  him,  or  he  seemed  incapable  of  per 
fectly  harmonizing  with  them.  But  he  had  not  been  in  the  presence 
of  Mr.  Whiting  and  his  wonderful  wife  for  five  seconds  before  he 
felt  that  he  was  now  among  his  own.  And  how  deliciously  sweet 
was  the  experience.  How  it  rested  his  soul,  and  how  his  thought 
seemed  to  blend  with  the  gentle  music  of  the  harmonies  that  played 
about  him  everywhere.  It  was  delightful  and  beautiful  indeed.  Yes, 
it  was  good  to  be  there.  He  could  almost  feel  the  harmony  with  his 
fingers  and  see  the  nymphs  of  gladness  dance  before  his  very  eyes. 

The  moment  he  was  presented  to  Mrs.  Whiting  he  felt  that  he 
was  wanted;  not  simply  welcome,  but  wanted;  and  how  his  soul 
thrilled  with  joy  as  he  realized  the  difference  between  the  two  modes 
of  reception.  He  saw  at  once  that  he  was  in  the  presence  of  two  su 
perior  souls,  and  he  also  recognized  the  fact  that  their  superiority 
was  of  higher  and  finer  quality  than  that  which  is  usually  described 
by  such  a  term.  And  a  hasty  glance  revealed  the  fact  that  every 
thing  pertaining  to  the  home  itself  was  in  perfect  keeping  with  the 
quality  of  that  soul  that  reigned  therein.  Nothing  was  extremely  ex 
pensive  nor  ostentatiously  extravagant;  but  everything  was  placed 
in  such  a  manner  that  the  very  climax  of  exquisite  taste  was  every 
where  in  evidence. 

Mrs.  Whiting  was  one  of  those  women  that  may  be  described  as 
"divinely  fashioned."  She  was  neither  too  large  nor  too  small.  She 


18  The   Will    and   The   Way 


was  nearly  perfect  in  figure,  beautiful  in  every  sense  of  that  term, 
possessing  a  remarkable  degree  of  living  soul,  and  having  strength, 
kindness  and  tenderness  most  wonderfully  blended,  both  in  her  na 
ture  and  in  her  expression.  She  was  in  truth  one  of  the  "queens  of 
this  earth."  She  had  polish  and  refinement,  intellect  and  feeling, 
and  was  perfectly  at  home  both  in  the  kitchen  and  in  the  drawing 
room.  But  she  did  not  consider  the  latter  superior  to  the  former, 
nor  vice  versa.  She  could  royally  entertain  the  simple-minded  as 
well  as  the  most  cultured,  for  she  reached  all  the  octaves  on  the  key 
board  of  human  nature.  She  could  prepare  the  most  tempting  dishes 
that  palate  had  ever  known,  and  render  musical  selections  fit  for  the 
gods.  But  she  had  a  hobby.  She  had  an  extraordinary  admiration 
for  people  that  seemed  to  possess  "the  promise  of  something  better." 
When  she  met  people  who  she  thought  had  something  in  them,  she 
would  single  them  out,  whether  they  had  ever  accomplished  anything 
or  not,  and  invite  them  to  her  home  at  every  opportunity.  It  was, 
therefore,  with  the  keenest  of  pleasure  that  she  received  Melville 
Reardon  into  the  genial  and  soothing  atmosphere  of  the  Whiting 
home  that  night. 

"Do  you  know,"  she  said  to  Melville  Reardon,  as  she  invited 
him  to  the  most  comfortable  chair  in  the  room,  "that  I  feel  more  hon 
ored  in  having  you  here  tonight  than  the  entire  retinue  of  some  reign 
ing  emperor?" 

"Please,  Mrs.  Whiting,"  Melville  Reardon  replied,  with  cheeks 
on  fire,  "do  not  compliment  my  presence  in  such  strong  terms  as 
that.  I  shall  be  utterly  at  a  loss  to  know  what  to  say  in  appreciation 
of  such  extraordinary  kindness.  Besides,  I  am  wholly  unimportant. 
1  have  accomplished  nothing." 

"Therein  you  are  mistaken,  Mr.  Reardon.  You  have  already 
accomplished  much.  In  fact,  there  are  less  than  ten  living  men  in 
the  world  today  that  have  accomplished  more.  Remember,  that 
which  is  not  seen  comes  first.  That  which  is  seen  comes  later.  You 
will  soon  know  what  1  mean,  and  the  time  is  near  at  hand  when  you 
will  prove  that  I  am  right." 

"You  may  be  right,  Mrs.  Whiting.  In  fact,  I  do  not  doubt  in 
the  least  that  you  know  exactly  whereof  you  speak.  But  I  must 
confess,  that  to  me,  you  are  speaking  as  if  in  an  unknown  tongue." 

"Very  well,  we  shall  not  discuss  that  matter  any  further  just 
now.  We  have  something  slightly  different  that  will  require  our  at 
tention  this  evening.  Nevertheless,  Mr.  Reardon,  I  wish  to  repeat 
that  I  feel  more  honored  to  have  you  here  than  any  monarch  you 
could  possibly  mention.  And  you  will  add  greatly  to  my  happiness 
if  you  will  candidly  believe  that  I  mean  what  I  say." 

Melville  Reardon  made  an  effort  to  reply  to  what  to  him  was 
the  most  extravagant  statement  he  had  ever  heard,  but  before  he  had 
the  opportunity  to  do  so,  there  was  a  peculiar  ring  at  the  bell;  and 
Mrs.  Whiting  arose,  her  countenance  beaming  as  she  stated,  in  almost 
a  whisper,  "Cyril  Janos  is  coming." 


The   Will   and   The  Way 19 

IV. 

When  Melville  Reardon  came  to  meet  Cyril  Janos  he  expected 
to  see  a  remarkable  man,  and  he  was  not  disappointed.  In  fact,  he 
was  more  than  pleased,  both  with  the  general  appearance  and  the 
general  demeanor  of  this  exceptional  personage  who  was  to  lead  him 
out  of  the  desert  of  failure  and  despair  into  the  pastures  green  of 
cherished  ambitions  made  true.  And  it  was  not  many  minutes  after 
the  arrival  of  this  remarkable  man  before  the  perplexing  problems 
of  Melville  Reardon's  mysterious  life  were  placed  under  the  light  of 
psychological  investigation. 

"Will  you  kindly  tell  me,  Mr.  Reardon,  if  you  have  any  definite 
ambitions  in  life?"  Cyril  Janos  began. 

"Yes,"  replied  Melville,  his  whole  being  on  fire  with  intensity 
as  those  ambitions  were  beginning  to  renew  their  wild  clamorings 
within  him,  "I  have  two." 

"When  did  those  ambitions  begin?" 

"At  about  the  age  of  five  or  six,  I  think;  though  one  of  them 
began  to  take  shape  earlier  than  that." 

"Did  you  think  a  great  deal  of  those  ambitions  at  that  time?" 

"I  thought  of  them  almost  constantly  until  I  was  twenty.  I  am 
thirty  now." 

"Were  you  very  desirous  to  realize  those  ambitions,  or  did  your 
thoughts  concerning  them  take  only  the  form  of  fancy?" 

"My  desire  to  realize  those  ambitions  were  intense  almost  con 
stantly,  and  at  times  so  deep  and  so  strong  that  I  really  did  not  know 
what  to  do  with  myself." 

"But  why  did  you  begin  to  think  less  of  those  ambitions  after 
your  twentieth  year?" 

"To  answer  that  question  I  must  tell  you  what  my  ambitions 
were.  My  first  ambition  was  to  wed  a  woman  of  a  certain  type.  I 
used  to  call  her  'the  one  woman  of  my  dreams,'  and  she  has  continued 
to  be  true  to  that  name.  She  is  the  only  woman  I  ever  dreamed  about, 
and  she  still  lives  in  my  dreams.  I  have  never  found  her.  I  fell  in 
love  with  a  real  girl  when  I  was  twenty,  and  for  the  time  being  forgot 
the  queen  of  my  cherished  career.  Something  came  in  the  way,  how 
ever,  and  I  was  prevented,  in  a  very  strang  manner,  from  engaging 
myself  to  that  'first  girl.'  I  have  met  a  score  of  girls  since  whom  1 
thought  I  could  love,  but  every  time  something  unexpected  has  hap 
pened  to  spoil  it  all.  It  has  often  seemed  to  me  that  a  power  outside 
myself  has  stepped  in  and  stirred  up  something  to  prevent  me  from 
getting  married;  though  I  admit  that  my  soul  danced  for  joy  every 
time  one  of  those  love  affairs  fizzled  out  into  nothing." 

"Your  experience  is  most  interesting,"  interrupted  Cyril  Janos, 
"and  some  time  soon  I  should  be  pleased  to  have  you  relate  to  me 
the  details  in  each  case.  It  would  give  me  abundant  material  for  my 
research.  The  fact  that  you  were  strangely  prevented  from  marry 
ing  any  woman  who  was  not  the  exact  counterpart  of  your  'one  only 


20  The    Will    and    The    Way 


woman'  is  easily  explained,  however.  But  what  was  your  second  am 
bition?" 

"My  second  ambition,"  continued  Reardon,  "was  to  be  highly 
successful  in  a  certain  special  accomplishment.  But  I  prefer  not  to 
say  what  it  is.  If  I  realize  this  ambition  you  will  all  know  its  nature; 
and  if  I  do  not,  I  should  prefer  to  bury  it  in  my  own  forgetfulness. 
It  is  something,  however,  that  has  never  been  accomplished  before, 
but  I  know  it  is  possible;  and  if  it  were  accomplished  it  would  go 
down  in  history  as  one  of  the  greatest  achievements  of  this  age." 

"But  why  did  you  begin  to  think  less  of  this  ambition  after  your 
twentieth  year?" 

"Because  I  had  to  begin  at  that  time  to  earn  my  own  living; 
and  I  could  find  no  opportunity  to  do  so  along  the  line  of  my  special 
ambition.  I,  therefore,  had  to  take  up  other  work." 

"Did  you  feel  congenial  in  that  other  work?" 

"No,  I  did  not.  After  I  had  occupied  a  position  for  a  few  weeks 
or  a  few  months,  I  was  driven  out  of  it  by  an  uncontrollable  desire 
to  do  this  other  thing.  1  simply  could  find  no  peace  in  any  line  of 
work,  nor  stay  long  enough  with  any  firm  to  secure  promotion.  I 
had  to  begin  at  the  bottom  wherever  I  went,  but  before  I  was  suf 
ficiently  familiar  with  my  work  to  be  advanced  I  had  to  leave.  My 
ruling  ambition  would  become  so  strong  that  life  was  simply  intol 
erable  if  I  even  though  of  anything  else.  Then  I  would  try  to  do 
something  to  carry  out  this  ambition,  but  before  I  could  accomplish 
anything,  my  pockets  were  empty,  and  I  was  driven  back  to  some 
other  work,  to  begin  at  the  bottom  once  more." 

"The  situation  is  perfectly  clear  to  me,  Mr.  Reardon.  I  can 
tell  you  exactly  what  is  wrong,  why  things  have  happened  to  you  as 
they  have,  and  how  you  may  proceed  to  solve  your  problem.  Your 
two  ambitions  can  be  realized;  kindly  remember  that.  But  when  I 
say  so  I  do  not  speak  in  the  language  of  a  prophet.  There  are  thou 
sands  who  have  had  experiences  similar  to  your  own,  only  your  case 
is  what  may  be  called  a  'marked  case'  on  account  of  the  largeness 
and  depth  of  your  mind.  We  shall  explain  that  later.  The  cause  in 
each  case,  however,  is  the  same;  and  the  remedy  is  the  same.  This 
remedy  has  been  applied  a  number  of  times  and  it  never  fails;  in 
fact,  it  is  one  of  those  things  that  cannot  fail  any  more  than  dry  wood 
can  fail  to  burn  when  placed  in  the  fire.  Therefore,  when  1  say  that 
you  can  realize  both  of  your  ambitions,  I  am  not  theorizing;  1  am 
simply  stating  an  exact  scientific  principle.  You  will  accomplish  that 
wonderful  something  you  have  in  mind,  Mr.  Reardon,  and  you  will 
find  her.  That  is  the  truth.  Then  let  your  soul  sing  with  unbounded 
rejoicing.  You  have  certainly  good  reason  to  be  happy,  even  to 
dance  with  unspeakable  ecstacy.  You  have  a  wonderful  future  be 
fore  you;  you  have  the  two  essentials  to  such  a  future;  those  two  es 
sentials  cannot  fail  to  produce  such  a  future  when  they  once  come 
together;  and  when  the  two  exist  in  the  same  mind,  as  they  do  in 
your  case,  they  finally  will  come  together." 

For  a  few  moments  everybody  in  the   room  was  silent.      It  was 


The   Will   and   The   Way  21 

one  of  those  moments  when  silence  alone  has  the  eloquence  to  de 
scribe  what  is  felt  in  the  soul.  And  Melville  Reardon,  more  than  the 
rest,  felt  that  he  had  entered  a  silence  as  deep  as  the  fathomless  sea. 
Was  it  true  after  all  that  everything  he  had  dreamed  about  was  to 
be  realized?  Yes,  he  believed  it  was.  Cyril  Janos  spoke  as  one  hav 
ing  authority;  besides,  he  was  beginning  to  feel  something  within 
him  that  seemed  greater  and  more  powerful  than  all  the  failures  he 
could  possibly  imagine.  True,  he  had  felt  that  same  something  many 
times  before;  but  it  seemed  different  now.  At  other  times  it  had 
only  come  in  the  form  of  temporary  spurts,  but  now  it  seemed  to 
take  the  form  of  a  calm,  determined  attitude,  fully  prepared  for  tan 
gible  action.  What  did  Mrs.  Whiting  mean  when  she  said,  "You 
have  already  accomplished  much?"  Did  she  mean  what  he  was  now 
beginning  to  think  she  meant?  Somehow,  the  mystery  of  it  all  was 
beginning  to  clear,  and  he  was  ready  to  turn  his  attention  to  the 
scientific  analysis  of  the  "cause"  and  the  "remedy." 

"Will  you  now  tell  me,  Cyril  Janos,"  he  finally  resumed,  "where 
my  ambitions  originated,  where  they  gained  their  power,  and  why 
they  have  become  so  immensely  strong?" 

"That  is  very  simple.  In  the  first  place,  your  mind  is  excep 
tionally  large  and  deep.  What  I  mean  is  that  so  much  of  your  sub 
conscious  is  alive.  Therefore,  any  desire  or  ambition  that  you  might 
establish  in  your  mind,  would  naturally  gain  a  great  deal  of  volume 
and  power.  In  the  second  place,  you  gave  your  two  leading  ambi 
tions  almost  constant  thought  for  fifteen  years  or  more.  You  con 
tinued  to  build  up  those  two  ambitions  in  your  subconscious  mind 
until  they  jointly  became  almost  absolute  monarch  in  your  entire 
mental  domain." 

"That  is  as  clear  as  crystal,"  interrupted]  Melville  Reardon. 
"And  how  simple.  I  am  beginning  to  see  it  all  now.  But  excuse 
my  interruption.  Please  continue,"  he  added,  his  face  literally  beam 
ing  with  eagerness  and  joy. 

"By  the  time  you  were  twenty,"  Cyril  Janos  resumed,  "these 
two  ambitions  had  gathered  so  much  mental  momentum  that  no  cir 
cumstance  or  condition  that  you  might  encounter  in  your  life  could 
possibly  prevent  them  from  finally  having  their  way.  Though  they 
have  been  partially  pacified  a  number  of  times  during  the  last  ten 
years,  they  have  come  forth  again  each  time  stronger  than  ever.  And 
the  fact  that  they  will  not  be  'downed'  is  proven  by  your  presence 
here  tonight." 

"Oh,  but  this  is  interesting,"  declared  Reardon,  almost  rising 
from  his  chair  with  eager  expectation  and  excited  attention.  "But 
tell  me  before  you  go  further,  can  the  force  of  a  man's  ambitions 
be  made  so  strong  as  to  overcome  any  adversity  that  might  come  in 
and  try  to  prevent  those  ambitions  from  being  realized?" 

"That  is  exactly  what  I  mean,"  Cyril  Janos  continued.  "Fully 
establish  your  ambitions  in  your  mind,  and  continue  to  build  up  the 
subconscious  power  of  those  ambitions.  In  the  course  of  time  tKe 
force  that  is  back  of  those  ambitions  will  become  so  strong  that  every- 


22 The  Will   and  The  Way 

thing  must  move  before  it.  No  circumstance,  no  obstacle,  no  ad 
versity  can  stay  its  onward  march  toward  the  goal  it  has  in  view." 

"Talk  about  good  news,"  Melville  exclaimed.  "That  is  a  thou 
sand  times  better  than  anything  I  ever  heard.  1  am  almost  ready  to 
shout;  but — I  forgot — I  must  be  calm  and  self-possessed." 

"And  now  1  am  going  to  tell  you,  Mr.  Reardon,  how  this  law 
has  operated  in  your  own  life;  why  things  have  happened  as  they 
have  during  the  last  ten  years." 

"Yes,  thank  you  a  million  times,  Cyril  Janos.  That  is  exactly 
what  I  want  to  know.  But  I  think  I  can  almost  guess  what  you  are 
going  to  say." 

"Your  desire  to  wed  'a  certain  type  of  woman'  is  so  strong  in 
your  subconscious  mind  that  whenever  you  fall  in  love  with  another 
type  you  soon  become  wholly  confused  in  your  feelings  on  account 
of  the  undercurrent  of  your  'ideal*  love  trying  to  draw  your  affections 
in  another  direction.  Accordingly,  your  love-making  will  not  ring 
true;  the  girl  will  soon  discover  this;  she  will  begin  to  doubt,  either 
in  word  or  in  action,  and  before  you  know  it,  you  two  are  having 
differences,  disagreements  and  possibly  quarrels.  Or,  this  deeper 
desire  for  the  'one  woman  of  your  dreams'  may  so  upset  your  mind 
at  times  that  you  will  say  something  or  do  something  that  will  arouse 
opposition  either  by  the  girl  or  by  her  relatives.  You  may  say  or  do 
these  things  unintentionally,  but  the  'break'  is  made.  You  lose  your 
suit  and  deplore  the  cruelty  of  fate.  Tell  me  candidly,  Mr.  Reardon, 
when  you  have  declared  to  those  other  girls,  'I  love  you,'  have  you 
not  felt  something  within  yourself  speak  up  and  say,  'No,  it  isn't  so?' 

"Yes,  Cyril  Janos,  every  time.  And,  try  as  I  might,  that  inner 
feeling  would  persist.  Sometimes  it  would  almost  be  silent,  or  be 
so  weak  that  it  was  scarcely  noticeable,  while  at  other  times  it  was  so 
strong  that  when  the  girl  before  me  asked  if  I  loved  her,  it  was  with 
the  greatest  of  effort  that  I  was  able  to  say  that  I  did." 

"You  now  see  clearly,  Mr.  Reardon,  do  you  not,  why  you  have 
been  prevented  from  marrying  some  other  girl?" 

"Yes,   I  certainly  do." 

"You  were  not  prevented  by  Providence,  or  the  cruelty  of  fate 
or  some  force  outside  yourself.  It  was  your  own  subconscious  love 
for  'your  queen'  that  was  so  tremendously  strong  that  it  would  not 
permit  you  to  go  very  far  in  making  love  to  anyone  else." 

"I  understand  it  all  perfectly  now.  And  how  wonderful  it  all 
is.  Yes,  and  I  now  appreciate  the  wisdom  of  that  man  who  said, 
'Never  pray  for  what  you  really  do  not  want,  because  you  may  have 
to  take  it.'  And  I  am  also  beginning  to  understand  why  we  always 
get  what  we  desire  if  we  desire  hard  enough  and  long  enough." 

"You  are  getting  down  to  rock  bottom,  Mr.  Reardon,  and 
though  these  great  laws  of  the  human  mind  work  with  equal  precision 
in  all  individuals,  it  is  the  man  whose  mind  is  fully  awake  who  must 
exercise  the  greatest  wisdom  in  their  daily  application.  A  man  with 
a  deep,  strong,  wide-awake  mind  must  invariably  follow  his  deepest 
desires  and  his  leading  ambitions.  He  must  work  entirely  for  his 


The  Will   and   The   Way 23 

ideals.      He  must  accept  nothing  less,   neither  in  life  nor  in  love.      If 
he  does,  he  will  have  trouble  in  great  measure." 

"But  my  other  ambition?"  inquired  Melville.  "Is  all  my  ex 
perience  connected  with  that  explained  in  the  same  way?" 

"Practically  so.  When  you  found  it  necessary  to  do  something 
else  to  earn  your  living,  you  were  trying  to  draw  the  faculties  of  your 
mind  into  new  channels;  but  the  force  of  your  leading  ambition  had 
such  a  firm  grip  upon  all  your  faculties  that  it  was  only  for  brief 
periods  that  you  could  enlist  them  in  other  work.  When  nearly  all 
the  power  of  your  mind  is  moving  in  a  certain  direction,  and  the 
force  of  that  power  is  immense,  it  is  not  an  easy  matter  to  turn  even 
a  small  part  of  that  power  in  some  other  direction.  If  you  try  to  do 
so  for  any  length  of  time,  you  will  create  so  much  antagonism  among 
your  own  mental  forces  that  life  will  become  a  misery.  You  will 
have  no  peace  whatever,  and  all  your  joy  will  be  turned  into  de 
pression  and  gloom." 

"That  looks  all  very  simple  to  me;  possibly -because  I  have  gone 
through  it  all.  But  does  this  same  thing  take  place  in  every  mind?" 

"No,  not  in  every  mind,  but  it  does  in  most  minds  to  some  de 
gree.  The  small  mind  that  has  no  definite  ambitions  can  turn  its 
attention  to  almost  any  occupation  with  perfect  ease;  and  the  same 
is  true  of  large  minds  that  have  no  particular  aim  in  life.  But  any 
mind,  be  it  large  or  small,  that  has  a  definite  aim  in  life,  should  begin 
to  work  at  once  for  that  aim.  Otherwise  there  will  be  trouble,  un- 
happiness  and  failure.  And  permit  me  to  say,  Mr.  Reardon,  that  if 
this  principle  was  universally  understood  and  applied,  ninety-nine  per 
cent  of  the  failures  in  the  world  would  cease  to  be." 

"You  are  making  a  strong  statement,  Cyril  Janos;  though  I  con 
fess  I  am  compelled  to  agree  with  you.  There  is  a  problem,  how 
ever,  in  this  connection  that  would  have  to  be  solved  before  most 
of  us  could  carry  out  your  principle.  Suppose  a  man  can  find  no  op 
portunity  to  earn  his  living  in  the  field  of  his  leading  aim,  what  is 
he  going  to  do?" 

"The  solution  is  simple.  Let  him  accept  the  first  and  the  best 
opportunity  he  can  find  to  earn  his  living,  and  while  thus  engaged, 
continue  to  prepare  the  way  for  his  leading  aim.  The  force  of  your 
leading  ambition  will  not  interfere,  subconsciously,  with  any  tem 
porary  occupation,  if  it  is  thoroughly  understood  that  that  temporary 
occupation  is  to  be  simply  one  of  the  means  through  which  the  lead 
ing  ambition  is  to  be  realized." 

"I  understand  what  you  mean,  and  I  shall  proceed  to  apply  that 
idea  in  my  own  'temporary  occupation;'  but  if  I  should  not  succeed 
as  well  as  I  might  wish,  may  I  ask  you  to  explain  this  matter  further 
some  time  in  the  near  future?" 

You  certainly  may;  though  I  wish  to  speak  to  you  further  on 
this  subject  anyway  at  the  earliest  possible  opportunity.  To  know 
how  to  effectually  combine  temporary  necessity  with  permanent  am 
bition,  is  one  of  the  great  stumbling  blocks  in  human  life.  It  is  there 
that  the  majority  fail.  But  any  person  can  so  adapt  himself  to  a 


24 The   Will   and   The   Way 

temporary  occupation  and  temporary  conditions,  as  to  further  directly 
the  real  purpose  he  has  in  view.  And  if  he  will  continue,  in  the  mean 
time,  to  build  up  the  subconscious  power  of  his  leading  ambition, 
the  force  of  that  ambition  will  soon  be  strong  enough  to  clear  the 
way  for  its  own  realization.  If  a  man  has  a  desire  to  fill  a  large  posi 
tion,  he  will  not  have  to  remain  in  a  small  position  very  long,  pro 
viding  his  ambition  to  enter  the  larger  position  is  made  deeper  and 
stronger  every  day." 

"Yes,  I  see  it  all  now,  Cyril  Janos,  and  to  say  that  my  gratitude 
to  you  is  without  limit,  without  bounds  and  without  end,  is  to  state 
it  mildly  indeed.  And  1  know  that  I  shall  have  the  privilege  to  come 
and  consult  you  whenever  1  may  deem  it  necessary." 

"Do  not  ask  me  for  that  privilege,  Mr.  Reardon.  Let  me  rather 
ask  to  have  the  pleasure  to  meet  you  whenever  convenient.  And 
do  not  thank  me  for  clearing  up  a  few  mysteries  for  you  tonight. 
You,  yourself,  are  the  cause  of  your  being  here  at  this  time;  and  per 
mit  me  to  state  that  my  meeting  with  you,  and  the  assurance  of  your 
friendship,  will  mean  more  to  me  in  the  near  future  than  anything 
else  that  could  have  happened.  1  could  tell  you  this  very  minute  what 
I  refer  to,  and  prove  to  you  here  and  now  that  my  statement  is  not 
extravagant.  But  there  are  times  when  actions  speak  more  elo 
quently,  more  forcibly  and  more  comprehensively  than  words.  And 
in  this  case  we  shall  let  the  action  speak.  Wait  for  it.  The  time  is 
not  far  away." 


V. 

The  personal  interview  between  what  Mrs.  Whiting  called  "the 
two  most  remarkable  men  she  had  ever  known"  was  brought  to  a 
close.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Whiting  had  continued  in  silent  admiration,  but 
were  now  invited  to  take  part  in  the  general  conversation  that  fol 
lowed.  This  privilege,  and  Mrs.  Whiting  called  it  a  privilege,  was 
acknowledged  by  her  in  the  highest  terms  of  pleasure.  She  loved 
to  talk,  far  more  so,  it  was  said,  than  any  other  woman  that  anybody 
had  ever  met.  But  she  had  never  been  known  to  talk  without  saying 
something. 

At  the  close,  however,  of  this  exceptional  interview,  an  interview 
that  was  to  marke  the  beginning  of  some  of  the  greatest  achievements 
recorded  in  history,  the  opportunities  for  Mrs.  Whiting's  brilliant  con 
versational  talents  were  not  as  numerous  as  might  have  been  desired. 
To  comply  with  his  regular  habits,  Cyril  Janos  soon  found  it  neces 
sary  to  take  his  departure;  and  after  an  affectionate  "Good-night" 
to  his  two  most  devoted  friends  and  his  remarkable  new-found  friend, 
he  departed  for  his  own  home. 

"What  do  you  think  of  Cyril  Janos?"  asked  Mrs.  Whiting,  in 
a  gentle,  expectant  tone,  as  she  turned  smilingly  to  Melville  Reardon. 

"To  tell  you  what  1  think,"  he  immediately  replied,  "would  re 
quire  more  time  than  we  could  spare  tonight.  There  is  too  much  in 


The   Will   and   The   Way  25 

him  to  be  described  in  a  few  minutes;  besides,  I  would  rather  see  him 
a  second  time  before  I  give  my  opinion." 

"Very  well,  Mr.  Reardon,  but  let  me  give  you  fair  warning. 
After  you  have  seen  him  a_  second  time  you  will  think  twice  as  much 
of  him,  and  it  will  take  twice  as  long  to  tell  me  about  it.  You  see 
very  little  of  Cyril  Janos  the  first  time  you  meet  him.  The  second 
time  you  see  far  more.  In  fact,  every  time  you  meet  him  he  seems 
to  be  twice  as  large  in  mind  and  soul,  twice  as  great  and  twice  as 
wonderful  as  he  was  the  time  before." 

"That  seems  strange,  indeed.  And  how  interesting  it  would 
be  if  all  our  friends  were  that  way.  But  to  divert  to  a  slight  degree, 
do  you  not  think,  Mrs.  Whiting,  that  the  marital  ills  of  today  would 
readily  disappear  if  such  a  remedy  could  be  applied?" 

"I  certainly  do,"  she  said,  smiling  sweetly.  "And  what  is  more," 
she  continued,  "real  wedded  bliss  becomes  possible  only  when  the 
mind  of  the  man  grows  greater  every  day  and  the  soul  of  the  woman 
more  beautiful." 

"You  have  uttered  one  of  the  greatest  truths  of  the  ages,  my 
dear,"  Mr.  Whiting  replied  as  he  came  over  and  kissed  her  affection 
ately.  "And  I  know  one  woman,"  he  added,  "that  has  made  that 
truth  a  part  of  herself.  If  you  wish  to  see  her,  I  shall  bring  a  mirror 
at  once." 

"No,  thank  you;  not  just  now.  I  would  rather  talk  to  Mr.  Rear 
don  than  look  at  my  own  face." 

"Why,  Mrs.  Whiting,"  Melville  Reardon  exclaimed,  "that  is  the 
finest  compliment  that  has  ever  been  paid  to  me." 

"It  certainly  has  a  rich  and  extravagant  appearance,"  said  Mr. 
Whiting,  "but  if  you  knew  how  well  Mrs.  Whiting  loves  to  talk,  the 
value  of  that  compliment  would  depreciate  quite  a  little." 

"However  that  may  be,"  replied  Mr.  Reardon,  "I  shall  accept 
it  at  its  full  face  value.  And  I  shall  be  most  happy  to  prolong  my 
visit  in  order  to  listen  to  Mrs.  Whiting,  but  I  must  say  good-night." 

"You  remember  what  I  said,  Mr.  Reardon,  when  you  first  came 
here  tonight,"  Mrs.  Whiting  began,  as  the  full  glory  of  her  soul  seemed 
to  reveal  itself  through  her  tender  and  brilliant  countenance. 

"Yes,  I  remember,  Mrs.  Whiting,  and  I  shall  never  forget  it, 
even  though  there  be  no  end  to  my  conscious  existence." 

"Well,  I  wish  to  repeat  it,"  she  continued,  "and  with  added  em 
phasis.  And  before  you  leave,  may  I  ask  you  to  be  with  us  next 
Wednesday  evening?  I  want  you  to  meet  two  exceptional  people 
with  whom  I  have  recently  become  acquainted;  a  young  man  and  a 
young  woman;  they  don't  know  each  other,  but  they  will  after  Wednes 
day  evening.  But  that  will  not  be  all  that  they  will  know  after  that 
evening.  I  mean  to  tell  them  something  that  they  never  heard  of 
before." 

"That  would  be  a  foregone  conclusion,  Mrs.  Whiting,  no  matter 
whom  you  might  invite.  And  I  shall  accept  your  invitation  for  that 
evening  with  far  more  pleasure  than  I  can  possibly  say.  But,  may  1 
ask  why  those  new-found  friends  are  exceptional?" 


26 The  Will   and   The  Way 

"That  is  a  matter  that  cannot  be  explained.  You  will  know 
when  you  see  them.  Miss  Mildred  Kirkwood,  the  young  woman,  is 
one  of  those  rare  souls  that  have  all  the  admirable  qualities  that  you 
can  think  of  except  one — the  power  to  get  what  is  due  her.  She  is 
simply  giving  her  life  away  to  everybody  with  whom  she  associates, 
be  it  in  the  business  world,  among  her  friends,  or  at  home." 

"And  she  gets  nine  dollars  a  week  for  the  privilege,"  interrupted 
Mr.  Whiting. 

"She  could  marry  the  best  man  in  the  world,"  Mrs.  Whiting 
continued;  "and  the  best  man  in  the  world  would  be  in  the  greatest 
luck  to  get  her." 

"Then  why  doesn't  she  find  him  and  marry  him?"  asked  Mr. 
Reardon,  trying  to  suppress  a  smile. 

"She  doesn't  want  to.      That's  the  reason." 

"She  doesn't  want  to?  In  that  case  I  can  readily  understand 
why  you  call  her  exceptional." 

"You  misunderstand  me,  Mr.  Reardon.  She  would  like  to,  but 
she  doesn't  want  to." 

"Why,  what  do  you  mean,  Mrs.  Whiting?  You  are  becoming 
mysterious." 

"Not  at  all.  1  said  she  would  like  to,  but  she  doesn't  want  to. 
You  know  there  is  a  difference.  I  am  going  to  tell  her  the  difference 
next  Wednesday  evening.  Then  she  will  want  to.  And  she  will 
not  want  to  very  long  without  getting  a  husband  that  is  fully  worthy 
of  such  a  superior  girl." 

"I  shall  be  deeply  interested  to  know  the  difference,"  replied 
Melville  Reardon,  as  he  quietly  thought  to  himself  that  he  might  at 
the  same  time  learn  how  to  find  her. 

"And  Emory  Warren,  the  young  man,"  continued  Mrs.  Whit 
ing,  "is  one  of  those  modern  philosophers  who  knows  perfectly  how 
to  change  the  present  order  of  human  conditions,  but  does  not  know 
how  to  change  his  own  conditions.  I  am  going  to  tell  him  something. 
He  is  not  satisfied  with  things  as  they  are;  nor  do  I  think  I  should  be 
if  I  had  to  wear  the  same  suit  five  seasons;  though  I  should  blame 
myself  first,  and  the  present  social  order  later  on,  if  necessary.  He 
claims  to  be  able  to  say  exactly  where  all  present  systems  are  wrong, 
and  I  admit  his  arguments  are  unanswerable  as  far  as  he  goes.  You 
heard  me  say  'as  far  as  he  goes,'  did  you  not,  Mr.  Reardon?" 

"I  did,  Mrs.  Whiting,  and  I  think  I  understand  what  you  mean." 

"But  when  he  begins  to  talk  to  me,  he  will  have  to  go  farther. 
That  will  change  his  mind.  You  always  have  to  change  your  mind 
when  you  go  farther.  And  when  he  changes  his  mind,  or,  rather, 
gets  a  new  mind,  he  will  soon  have  a  new  suit  of  clothes.  Then  things 
as  they  are  will  look  better.  But  he  is  certainly  a  remarkable  young 
man.  His  only  fault  seems  to  be  that  he  is  always  wanting  to  give 
medicine  to  others,  the  human  race  at  large,  but  doesn't  seem  to 
realize  that  he  needs  some  of  it  himself." 

"You  have  planned  a  most  interesting  evening  for  next  week, 
Mrs.  Whiting,  and  1  want  to  thank  you  again  and  again  for  the  privi- 


The  Will   and   The   Way  27 

lege  to  come.  And  now  'good  night.'  Mr.  Whiting,  'good-night, 
your  coming  to  see  Mr.  Spaulding  today  is  to  me  nothing  less  than  a 
miracle." 

The  great  day,  the  greatest  day,  by  a  thousand  times,  that  Mr. 
Reardon  had  ever  seen  was  almost  done,  though  not  quite.  One 
more  event,  an  event  that  would  mean  far  more  than  he  could  pos 
sibly  have  dreamed  that  night,  was  yet  to  transpire  before  he  might 
refresh  his  mind  in  sleep. 

"Why,  good  evening,  Mr.  Reardon.     This  is  a  pleasure  indeed." 

"Good  evening,  Mrs.  Arnold,"  he  replied,  rather  coldly,  as  a 
strong-minded  widow  of  sixty  summers  entered  the  car  and  came 
directly  to  seat  herself  beside  him. 

"You  are  looking  better  tonight  than  usual,"  she  continued. 
"Most  of  the  time  you  look  sad  and  tired,  and,  in  fact,  almost  as  if 
you  were  sick.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  Mr.  Reardon,  I  don't  think 
you  are  well.  You  either  work  too  hard,  or  something.  But  you 
almost  look  happy  tonight;  though  I  dare  say  you  don't  look  that 
way  very  often." 

"No,  not  very  often,  Mrs.  Arnold.  And  if  you  know  something 
about  my  life  you  would  not  be  surprised  at  my  usual  seriousness,  or 
what  many  call  half-sadness.  There  are  times,  however,  when  I  am 
very  happy.  Yes,  there  are  times  when  my  joy  goes  far  beyond 
anything  that  the  average  man  or  woman  ever  dreamed  of.  You 
know,  Mrs.  Arnold,  that  I  have  not  been  satisfied;  you  know  that  I 
am  lonely;  you  know  I  have  not  accomplished  what  I  have  yearned 
for  so  intensely  and  so  long;  you  know  that  for  certain  reasons  every 
day  has  been  a  disappointment  and  my  whole  life  a  failure.  You 
know  these  things;  you  do  not  know  the  reason  why,  but  you  know 
that  I  have  had  nothing  in  the  visible  world  to  give  me  happiness. 
But,  regardless  of  these  facts,  I  have  moments  when  my  soul  ascends 
to  spheres  of  joy,  so  gorgeously  sublime  that  a  million  heavens  com 
bined  as  one  would  seem  insignificant  in  comparison.  And  for  those 
moments  I  would  not  take  all  the  wealth  and  all  the  fame  in  the 
world." 

"That  must  be  very  beautiful,  Mr.  Reardon." 

"Yes,  it  is  beautiful,"  he  replied,  thinking  to  himself  how  little 
she  understood  what  he  was  trying  to  convey,  and  wondering  why 
he  so  frequently  told  this  woman  so  many  things  that  he  previously 
did  not  intend  to  mention. 

"But  tell  me,"  Mrs.  Arnold  resumed,  "how  do  you  account 
for  these  experiences?" 

"1  did  not  know  until  tonight.  That  and  a  score  of  other  mys 
teries  have  been  solved  for  me  tonight.  Everything  is  changed  now; 
and  that  is  why  I  look  so  different." 

"And  what  has  happened,  Mr.  Reardon?  You  will  tell  me  all 
about  it,  will  you  not?  There  are  so  few  people  in  the  car  that  no 
one  will  hear  it  if  you  consider  the  matter  purely  personal." 

"No,  Mrs.  Arnold,  not  tonight.  I  would  not  have  sufficient 
time.  In  a  few  minutes  you  will  reach  your  destination." 


28"  The  Will   and  The  Way 

"That's  true.  Thank  you  for  reminding  me,  for  I  have  some 
thing  unusually  important  to  say  to  you.  1  was  going  to  send  you  a 
note,  but  now  I  can  present  my  message  in  person.  You  know  1  have 
been  thinking  a  great  deal  about  you  recently,  and  have  taken  such 
a  deep  interest  in  your  welfare.  Yes,  1  have  been  interested  in  you 
ever  since  1  first  met  you  at  that  dinner  a  month  ago.  And  when 
you  told  me  last  week  about  your  being  so  lonely  I  made  up  my 
mind  that  I  would  have  you  meet  some  nice  girl  as  soon  as  possible. 
And  the  very  first  girl  1  thought  of  was  Miss  Elviria  Cameron.  She 
goes  to  our  church  and  she  is  so  sweet.  Just  the  kind  of  a  girl  you 
would  like;  young  and  pretty;  splendid  company,  full  of  life,  and 
she  has  golden  hair." 

"Do  you  hear  that,  Mr.  Reardon?"  she  continued,  with  a  mean 
ing  expression  in  her  eye,  "deep  blue  eyes  and  golden  hair." 

"Yes,  I  hear  everything  you  say,  Mrs.  Arnold,"  he  replied,  in 
a  voice  that  expressed  anything  but  interest. 

"I  saw  Miss  Cameron  today,"  she  resumed,  "and  I  asked  her 
to  come  to  my  house  Friday  night  of  next  week.  She  will  come  in 
the  afternoon  before  it  gets  dark.  You  come  later.  And  just  think 
of  it,  Mr.  Reardon,  you  will  have  the  opportunity  to  take  her  home. 
Now  remember  the  date.  1  have  it  all  arranged  for  you.  And  I 
know  you  will  promise  to  come  without  fail." 

Something  within  him  seemed  to  say,  "Don't  go,"  and  he  had 
a  strong  desire  to  refuse;  nevertheless  he  told  Mrs.  Arnold  he  would 
come,  and  thanked  her  most  politely  for  her  great  kindness. 

But  as  he  retired  that  night  he  could  not  help  asking  himself 
repeatedly  why  he  had  promised  Mrs.  Arnold  against  his  will.  And 
he  could  not  feel  satisfied  in  the  least  with  what  he  had  done.  After 
such  a  wonderful  day,  and  far  more  wonderful  night,  why  should 
this  cloud  come  over  his  life  when  everything  had  been  cleared  so 
perfectly?  What  did  it  mean?  And  what  would  be  the  result  of 
his  meeting  this  fair  maiden  with  the  golden  hair?  As  he  thought  of 
her  for  a  moment,  a  strange  feeling  came  over  him.  Yes,  he  did 
want  to  see  her,  and  he  was  so  grateful  for  the  invitation.  Then, 
after  a  pause,  something  within  him  began  to  revolt;  for  some  strange 
reason  he  felt  that  he  must  not  go  to  meet  that  girl.  Yes,  he  should 
have  refused.  But  it  was  not  too  late.  This  was  only  Thursday  night, 
and  the  invitation  was  for  Friday  night  of  next  week.  He  could  easily 
find  an  excuse  and  send  word  immediately  in  the  morning.  "No," 
he  finally  declared,  almost  aloud,  "I  will  stand  by  my  promise,  come 
whatever  may.  I  am  ready  to  meet  anything  now  and  will  positively 
not  hedge  at  a  single  circumstance  that  may  come  my  way." 

With  this  declaration,  the  cloud  seemed  to  pass,  and  his  mind 
again  was  rejoicing  over  everything  that  had  happened  that  day. 
What  a  future  was  before  him.  And  how  supremely  interesting  it 
would  be  to  watch  the  development  of  everything  in  his  life  as  that 
future  unfolded  in  its  richness  and  glory.  The  thought  of  it  all  was 
sweet  indeed.  Yes,  now  he  could  rest  peacefully.  But  here  was  na 
ture's  opportunity.  He  was  thinking  of  peace  and  rest.  The  door 


The  Will   and   The  Way 29 

of  the  beautiful  land  of  dreams  was  quietly  opening  before  him;  and 
as  he  entered,  nature  smiled  sweetly.  Well  might  she  smile  and  turn 
her  eyes  to  the  heavens  with  gratitude  and  joy,  for  on  that  night  she 
had  produced  another  man. 


VI. 

When  Melville  Reardon  appeared  at  his  work  the  morning  after 
that  most  wonderful  day  and  still  more  wonderful  night,  he  was 
greeted  in  a  manner  that  could  not  have  been  more  gracious  had  he 
been  some  highly  honored  guest.  Richard  Spaulding  had  arrived 
much  earlier  than  usual,  and  was  anxiously  waiting  to  learn  what  ex 
ceptional  information  had  been  divulged  at  the  home  of  the  Whitings 
the  night  before. 

"Come  into  my  office  at  once,  won't  you,  please?"  he  began  the 
very  moment  he  saw  Mr.  Reardon.  "Now  tell  me  all  about  it,"  he 
continued  as  the  door  to  his  private  sanctum  was  closed  behind  them. 
"Excuse  me  for  being  in  such  a  hurry,"  he  went  on  as  he  offered  Mr. 
Reardon  a  chair  directly  in  front  of  his  own,  "but  I  have  several  sig 
nificant  reasons.  I  believe  some  big  things  are  going  to  happen  here 
today.  I  just  had  a  most  important  telephone  message.  This  calls 
upon  me  to  decide  in  a  matter  that  requires  extraordinary  judgment. 
But  before  I  take  that  matter  up  I  must  know  what  you  were  told 
last  night.  It  is  necessary  that  I  should  know  before  I  can  proceed 
with  the  problem  that  I  have  just  been  requested  to  solve.  And  it 
is  especially  necessary  that  I  know  something  definite  about  Mr.  Whit 
ing.  Kindly  tell  me  just  exactly  what  you  think  of  him.  You  may 
be  surprised  at  my  curiosity,  but  I  have  reasons,  business  reasons, 
and  the  exact  facts  may  mean  much  to  you  as  well  as  to  Mr.  Whiting 
and  myself." 

"My  candid  opinion  is  this,"  Mr.  Reardon  replied,  "that  Mr. 
Whiting  has  no  superior  in  the  business  world.  He  holds  an  excellent 
position  at  present,  but  he  is  certainly  able  to  fill  one  that  is  many 
times  as  good.  And  he  undoubtedly  will  secure  something  that  is 
much  better  very  soon.  His  rise  has  been  rapid  since  he  became  a 
friend  of  Cyril  Janos,  and  when  you  become  acquainted  with  that 
remarkable  man — and  I  would  advise  you  to  take  steps  in  that  direc 
tion  at  once — you  will  readily  appreciate  the  reason  why." 

"So  you  really  got  something  out  of  your  visit,  did  you?"  in 
terrupted  Mr.  Spaulding. 

"I  certainly  did.  That  man  seems  to  know  everything,  and  he 
has  promised  to  tell  me  all  he  knows." 

"Well,  now,  you  are  in  luck  at  last;  and  1  am  glad;  but  do  you 
know  if  his  extraordinary  knowledge  is  of  practical  value?" 

"Yes,  that  is  the  beauty  of  it.  It  is  all  practical.  And  you  may 
think  I  am  in  luck  to  get  it;  but  I  have  another  name  for  that  phe 
nomenon." 

"Very  well,  Mr.  Reardon,  but  we  shall  not  have  time  to  discuss 


30 The  Will   and  The  Way 

scientific  terms  just  now.      Tell  me  more  about   Mr.  Whiting.      What 
does  his  present  position  pay,   do  you  know?" 

"Four  years  ago,  at  the  time  he  first  met  Cyril  Janos,  he  was 
working  for  twenty-five  dollars  a  week.  His  present  position  pays 
him  $12,000  a  year.  But  according  to  my  judgment  he  could  easily 
fill,  full  to  the  brim,  a  place  that  pays  several  times  as  much." 

"You  really  think  so?"  Mr.  Spaulding  asked,   excitedly. 

"And  why  not?  I  just  stated  that  he  had  no  superior  anywhere 
in  the  business  world.  1  came  to  that  conclusion  last  night.  You 
would  come  to  the  same  conclusion  if  you  could  enjoy  an  hour  of 
intimate  conversation  with  him.  But  my  judgment  is  not  the  only 
source  of  information  that  I  possess  on  that  subject.  I  met  the  presi 
dent  of  the  firm  this  morning  with  which  Mr.  Whiting  is  connected." 

"You  did — accidentally,  or  how? — and  what  did  he  tell  you?" 

"You  would  call  it  accidentally,  a  mere  coincidence,  but  that 
is  another  phenomenon  for  which  I  have  found  a  new  name." 

"There  now,  never  mind  your  new  names.  What  did  he  say 
about  Mr.  Whiting?" 

"He  said  that  Mr.  Whiting  was  a  marvel,  especially  in  executive 
ability  and  in  his  wonderful  control  over  men.  He  said  that  there 
were  over  a  thousand  men,  nearly  all  nationalities  represented,  work 
ing  at  his  factory,  and  there  was  not  one  of  those  men  that  would 
not  do  anything  Mr.  Whiting  wanted  done.  The  order  and  harmony 
in  that  establishment  had  been  practically  perfect,  he  said,  since  Mr. 
Whiting  had  taken  charge,  about  a  year  ago,  and  he  added,  with 
deep  satisfaction,  that  the  profits  of  the  concern  had,  during  the 
same  period,  been  twenty-five  per  cent  greater  than  any  similar  length 
of  time  in  the  past." 

"But  I  am  happy  to  hear  that,"  declared  Mr.  Spaulding,  in  a 
tone  wherein  excited  interest  was  strangely  blended  with  the  keenest 
delight.  "Your  meeting  that  man  this  morning  may  solve  my  prob 
lem,"  he  continued,  "but  how  did  it  happen  if  it  was  a  coincident 
and  not  a  coincident?" 

"The  man  simply  came  up  and  spoke  to  me  at  the  elevated 
station  as  we  were  waiting  for  the  train.  You  know  I  am  extremely 
happy  this  morning,  and  I  suppose  I  showed  it  very  distinctly.  The 
first  thing  he  said  to  me  was,  'What  is  the  secret,  young  man,  of  that 
wholesome,  inspiring  smile?'  'But  I  tell  you,'  he  continued  after  a 
slight  pause,  'it  does  a  man  good  to  see  a  smile  like  that.  I  wish  I 
could  get  it;  though  I  ought  to,  as  I  see  it  every  day.  The  manager 
of  our  factory,  Mr.  Whiting,  uses  that  brand  altogether/  I  then  told 
him  that  1  had  met  Mr.  Whiting  twice,  and  without  me  asking  a  single 
question  he  volunteered  all  the  information  I  might  have  desired 
concerning  what  he  was  pleased  to  call  'the  greatest  marvel  in  the 
business  world  today.'  As  we  parted  he  concluded  by  stating  that 
he,  himself,  did  not  feel  much  like  smiling,  as  Mr.  Whiting  was  far 
too  big  a  man  for  his  present  position,  and  would  naturally  find  op 
portunities  higher  up  before  long." 

Well,  if  all  of  this  is  not  too  funny.      You  discovered  accident- 


The   Will   and   The   Way £1 

ally  this  morning,  or  whatever  you  may  call  it,  the  very  thing  I  wanted 
to  know  after  receiving  that  telephone  message.  Strange,  very  strange, 
indeed.  But  can  you  tell  me  where  to  reach  that  man  by  telephone? 
I  must  speak  to  him  at  once." 

"Yes,  here  is  his  business  card.  I  don't  know  why  he  gave  it 
to  me,  but  he  did  nevertheless." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Reardon,  thank  you  ten  thousand  times.  You 
have  rendered  me  a  great  service,  and  some  day  soon  I  shall  be  most 
happy  to  have  the  privilege  to  do  something  special  for  you.  And 
now  go  to  your  work  for  a  few  minutes  while  I  call  up  this  man. 
When  I  am  through  I  will  want  you  to  come  in  again  and  tell  me 
everything  about  your  wonderful  experience  last  night." 

"I  shall  be  ready  to  tell  you  everything  whenever  you  want  me, 
Mr.  Spaulding,  though  I  do  not  see  how  it  would  be  possible  for  you 
to  enjoy  hearing  about  it  as  much  as  I  shall  enjoy  telling  about  it," 
said  Melville  Reardon  as  he  smilingly  left  the  room.  He  went  directly 
to  his  desk,  but  he  had  scarcely  been  seated  when  he  was  approached 
by  a  somewhat  ordinary  looking  man  holding  a  large  newspaper  clip 
ping  in  his  hand.  "Is  this  your  advertisement?"  he  asked,  excitedly. 

"It  is,"  replied  Mr.  Reardon. 

"Then  give  me  particulars,"  he  demanded  in  a  voice  that  re 
vealed  a  fair  degree  of  intelligence  and  feeling  incoherently  blended 
with  a  large  degree  of  crudeness. 

The  particulars  were  promptly  handed  to  him  in  the  form  of 
an  assortment  of  attractive-looking  printed  matter. 

"You  know  my  youngest  brother  died  a  short  time  ago,"  he 
went  on  as  he  was  hurriedly  glancing  over  this  "special  information" 
on  "where  to  invest  your  surplus  earnings,"  "and  he  was  insured. 
That's  how  we  happen  to  have  some  ready  cash  to  invest  just  now." 

"But  I'm  sorry  to  hear  that,"  Mr.  Reardon  replied,  sympathetic 
ally,  "especially  since  he  was  the  youngest.  Young  people  should 
live.  I  like  to  see  them  have  a  chance  first  to  get  something  out  of 
life,  or  at  least  to  prove  that  they  had  something  in  them — some 
thing  that  was  worth  much,  even  though  it  did  not  last  long." 

"You  are  right  in  that,"  the  stranger  replied,  slowly  and  medi 
tatively,  "but  it  finally  happened  as  we  expected." 

"Was  he  sick  long?" 

"No,  only  a  few  weeks  this  time,  but  he  was  down  seriously 
for  many  months  when  he  was  about  six.  Mother  said  at  that  time 
that  he  couldn't  live,  and  even  after  he  got  well  she  insisted  that  his 
life  would  be  short.  1  don't  know  why  she  thought  so,  but  we  all 
somehow  got  to  thinking  the  same.  There  were  eight  of  us  in  the 
family,  and  all  of  us  got  to  feeling  more  and  more  that  little  brother 
wouldn't  be  with  us  'very  long.  That's  why  we  had  him  insured, 
though  we  really  couldn't  afford  it." 

"How  old  was  he  when  he  died?" 

"About  twenty." 

"So  it  took  fourteen  years  for  your  expectations  to  come  true?'* 

"Yes,   fourteen  years." 


32 The   Will   and   The  Way 

"Did  he  also  think  that  his  life  would  be  short?" 

"Oh,  certainly.  Our  fears  for  his  life  were  often  talked  about 
in  the  family.  And  whenever  he  would  get  a  cold  or  something, 
mother  would  tell  him  to  get  ready  to  meet  his  Maker.  She  seemed 
to  think  that  every  time  he  didn't  feel  quite  right  the  end  was  near. 
But  he  hung  on  for  quite  a  while;  though  he  went  at  last  just  as  we 
all  expected." 

"The  whole  family,  then,  sort  of  lived  constantly  in  the  fear  of 
his  death." 

"Yes,    that's  true." 

"Did  you,   or  any  member  of  the  family,   ever  read  the  Bible?" 

"I  should  say  so;  every  day;  most  surely,  we  are  all  regular 
church  members,  and  in  the  best  of  standing." 

"And  do  you  remember  of  ever  reading  somewhere  in  that 
book  about  the  thing  I  feared  has  come  upon  me?" 

"I  have  read  it  many  times.  But  what  do  you  mean  by  asking 
me  that?" 

"Think  a  while,  and  you  will  know." 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  that  that  boy  died  because  we  all  feared 
it,  do  you?" 

"My  friend,  I  am  only  quoting  scripture.  Though  I  am  inclined 
to  think  that  if  the  whole  family  had  spent  fourteen  years  expecting 
that  boy  to  live  a  long,  healthful  life,  you  would  not  have  had  any 
insurance  money  to  invest  today." 

"1  think  I  understand,"  he  said,  slowly,  his  eyes  gazing  into 
empty  space,  while  his  depressed  countenance  revealed  the  troubled 
efforts  of  his  mind  trying  to  grasp  some  unknown  something  that 
seemed  within  his  reach  and  yet  beyond  him.  "We  all  made  a  mis 
take,"  he  continued,  after  a  few  moments  of  painful  endeavor  to 
suppress  the  tears;  "it  is  dawning  upon  me  now — it  was  all  wrong 
— we  scared  him  to  his  grave — the  dear  boy — he  should  have  lived 
— he  might  have  lived — but  we  didn't  know — it  was  all  wrong." 

"Thank  you,"  he  exclaimed,  extending  his  hand  to  Mr.  Rear- 
don,  "for  telling  me  this."  And  almost  choking  with  emotion,  he 
concluded,  as  he  turned  to  leave,  "We  will  not  do  it  again — if  we 
had  only  known  it  before — but  we  will  not — no,  we  will  not — " 

He  was  gone,  but  the  deep  impression  that  his  brief  visit  had 
made  upon  the  mind  of  Melville  Reardon  was  destined  to  remain. 

"Why  did  I  speak  to  the  man  like  that?"  Mr.  Reardon  mused 
to  himself.  "I  never  thought  of  that  ancient  statement  of  Job  before 
as  having  that  particular  meaning.  But  it  is  clear  to  me  now  that 
that  is  what  it  means.  What  we  fear  comes;  what  we  don't  fear 
doesn't  come,  can't  come.  Strange  doctrine  surely,  but  I  can  think 
of  hundreds  of  incidents  in  my  life  and  my  observations  that  prove 
it.  But  I  wonder  what  I  am  going  to  find  out  next?" 

He  had  barely  finished  this  brief  meditation  when  Mr.  Spaulding 
again  called  him  to  his  private  office,  and  he  responded  instantly,  with 
a  new  joy  in  his  heart. 

"I  reached  him  all   right,"   Mr.   Spaulding  began,   his  face  lit  up 


The  Will   and   The  Way 33 

with  the  sunshine  of  real,  whole-souled  satisfaction.  "And  he  gave 
me  all  the  information  I  wanted,"  he  continued,  "not  suspecting  my 
object.  But  you  know  the  best  place  must  have  the  best  man,  and 
the  smaller  must  not  complain  when  it  loses  that  which  is  ready  for 
the  larger.  You  will  understand  after  a  while,  Mr.  Reardon,  what  I 
mean.  And  now  tell  me  what  you  learned  last  night,  but  kindly 
omit  the  details  for  the  present.  I  called  up  Mr.  Whiting  also.  He 
will  be  here  in  about  thirty  minutes.  I  have  a  matter  of  great  im 
portance  to  discuss  with  him,  and  by  first  knowing  something  about 
these  ideas  through  which  he  has  become  so  remarkably  successful, 
I  shall  be  in  a  better  position  to  properly  place  my  questions.*' 

The  thirty  minutes  proved  far  too  short  for  such  an  important 
report;  but  Mr.  Spaulding  gained  sufficient  for  the  object  he  had  in 
view.  And  he  also  gained  such  a  deep  interest  in  what  he  termed 
the  "Janos  Philosophy"  that  he  resolved  to  go  and  secure  every  fact 
known  to  that  remarkable  scientist,  no  matter  what  the  cost  might  be. 

"My  problem  is  solved,"  he  declared  with  enthusiasm,  as  he 
noted  that  the  time  for  Mr.  Whiting's  arrival  was  almost  at  hand. 
"And  now  I  am  going  to  prove  to  myself,"  he  said,  as  he  arose  and 
placed  his  hand  affectionately  upon  Mr.  Reardon' s  shoulder,  "that 
my  solution  is  most  happy.  You  will  be  interested  to  know  what  it 
is,  my  good  friend — you  have  been  a  real  good  friend  to  me  today, 
and  I  want  you  to  remain  right  here  during  my  interview  with  Mr. 
Whiting.  In  fact,  no  one  deserves  more  than  you  to  know  the  inside 
facts  in  this  case,  as  it  was  your  'out  of  the  ordinary*  smile  at  the  ele 
vated  station  this  morning  that  has  made  possible  what  is  going  to 
happen  now." 


VII. 

The  thirty  minutes  had  passed,  and  Mr.  Spaulding  was  informed 
that  a  splendid-looking  gentleman  was  waiting  to  see  him.  "Come 
right  in,  Mr.  Whiting,"  he  said,  as  he  stepped  to  the  door  and  gave 
his  distinguished  visitor  a  handshake  that  would  have  quailed  an  or 
dinary  mortal.  "You  are  the  one  man  that  is  wanted  here  today," 
he  continued,  with  a  smile  that  was  almost  like  that  particular  brand 
that  had  been  mentioned  an  hour  or  two  before. 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Spaulding;  no  greater  honor  can  man  receive 
from  man  than  what  you  have  just  conferred  upon  me,"  said  Mr. 
Whiting,  in  that  strong,  quiet  tone  that  seemed  to  cause  even  the  ele 
ments  of  the  atmosphere  to  stop  and  listen.  "To  be  wanted,"  he 
resumed,  with  added  emphasis,  "is  the  greatest  privilege  of  all;  you 
can  therefore  imagine  my  appreciation  of  the  manner  in  which  I  have 
just  been  received." 

"The  honor,  the  privilege  and  the  appreciation  is  even  greater 
on  our  side,  Mr.  Whiting,  I  assure  you;  but  be  seated;  we  have  somer 
thing  of  exceptional  importance  to  discuss  with  you,  and  it  is  a  matter 
that  does  not  permit  of  delay." 


34  The   Will   and   The   Way 

"1  am  at  your  service,  Mr.  Spaulding,  and  shall  apply  my  best 
efforts  in  directing  the  issue  before  us  toward  a  successful  termina 
tion." 

"Then  we  shall  proceed  at  once.  And,  to  begin,  Mr.  Whiting, 
may  I  ask  of  you  a  number  of  personal  questions?" 

"You  may  ask  me  anything  you  like.  And  though  I  am  not  ego 
tistical,  still  I  feel  I  can  truthfully  say  that  if  you  cross-examine  me 
closely  you  will  find  a  few  things  in  my  experience  that  are  worth 
finding.  Not  that  1  discovered  the  ideas  that  originated  those  experi 
ences;  others  did  that;  but  it  has  been  my  privilege  to  prove  those 
ideas  to  be  true." 

"Therefore,  Mr.  Whiting,  it  is  your  privilege  to  feel  proud,  very 
proud  indeed.  The  man  who  has  done  something  worth  while  should 
not  be  called  upon  to  designate  himself  as  'y°ur  humble  servant.' 
Let  us  be  done  with  the  word  'humble*  as  well  as  the  attitude  which  it 
represents.  The  majesty  of  the  universe  calls  upon  man  to  look  up, 
not  down.  And  it  is  my  conviction  that  the  man  of  great  deeds  not 
only  may,  but  must,  give  himself  full  credit.  If  he  does  not,  he  is 
dealing  unjustly  with  those  precious  faculties  that  he  has  received  from 
nature  and  from  nature's  God.  He  who  declares  that  he  is  nothing 
also  declares  that  his  creator  is  nothing.  Despise  effect  and  you  despise 
cause.  But  which  is  the  greater,  the  man  who  discovers  or  the  man 
who  demonstrates,  is  one  of  those  questions  that  has  no  answer; 
personally,  however,  I  am  very  fond  of  the  man  who  demonstrates. 
To  him  who  can  prove  the  truth — to  him  will  I  bow  in  reverence  any 
time  and  anywhere." 

"Most  excellently  stated,  Mr.  Spaulding.  Thus  far  your  ideas  are 
thoroughbreds  in  every  sense  of  the  term.  And  if  your  other  ideas 
belong  to  the  same  superior  class,  you  are  already  within  the  boundary 
line  of  that  philosophy  into  which  Mr.  Reardon  was  initiated  last 
night." 

"Most  of  them  are,  I  think;  and  in  that  case  my  initiation  will 
come  easy.  But  that  is  another  matter.  What  I  want  to  know  now, 
Mr.  Whiting,  is  what  methods  you  have  employed  in  attaining  such  a 
remarkable  degree  of  success  both  in  your  work  and  in  yourself.  1 
have  inquired  about  you  somewhat  extensively,  not  for  curiosity,  but 
for  business  reasons;  I  will  explain  these  reasons  shortly;  and  1  have 
secured  facts  concerning  you  that  are  simply  astounding.  1  want  to 
know  your  secret.  How  did  you  begin?  How  did  you  proceed  after 
you  actually  had  begun?  And  how  did  you  reach  your  present  posi 
tion?  Kindly  tell  me  as  briefly  as  you  can  and  as  concisely  as  you 
can.  You  will  confer  a  great  favor  upon  me,  and  several  others,  by  so 
doing.  And  please  remember  that  I  am  just  as  interested  to  know 
how  you  gained  your  present  personal  worth  as  how  you  gained  your 
ability  and  power  in  the  commercial  world.  You  have  not  only  be 
come  successful  in  your  vocation,  but  also  in  your  life;  while  you 
have  been  increasing  your  salary  you  have  also  been  increasing  your 
manhood  and  your  finer  personal  qualities;  for  every  dollar  you  have 
added  to  your  bank  account  you  have  added  several  to  the  riches  of 


The  Will   and   The   Way  35 

your  mind  and  soul.  And  let  me  tell  you,  Mr.  Whiting,  there  are  few 
such  men." 

"Your  appreciation,  Mr.  Spaulding,  is  extraordinary,  indeed,  but 
my  gratitude  is  far  greater,  whether  you  think  such  be  possible  or  not. 
However,  I  shall  not  express  my  feelings  in  this  matter;  first,  because 
they  are  too  deep  for  verbal  expression;  and  second,  because  I  am 
here  to  answer  your  questions.  And  this  I  shall  do  with  the  greatest 
of  pleasure." 

"Yes,  tell  us,  Mr.  Whiting,  how  you  began;  what  happened  first 
as  you  emerged  from  that  twenty-five-dollar-a-week  sphere  of  exist 
ence?" 

"To  answer  that  I  should  have  to  tell  you  first  about  my  wife.  I 
owe  the  change  for  the  better  exclusively  to  her;  not  for  what  she  had 
done,  but  for  what  she  had  failed  to  do.  When  I  married  her  she 
was  in  very  poor  health;  in  fact,  she  had  been  almost  an  invalid  for 
years.  That  is  how  I  happened  to  win  her.  If  she  had  been  well  she 
would  not  have  married  an  ordinary  man  like  I  was  at  the  time. 
She  was  so  brilliant  in  mind  and  so  beautiful  in  soul  that  had  she  had 
physical  health  and  personal  attractions  to  correspond,  she  could 
have  married  her  choice  from  the  best  men  in  the  world.  But  the  best 
men  in  the  world  are  not  looking  for  sick  girls." 

"Nevertheless,  she  won  the  best  man  in  the  world  without  know 
ing  it  at  the  time,"  interrupted  Mr.  Reardon.  "Though  she  knows 
it  now,"  he  added,  with  assuring  emphasis. 

"Again  I  should  be  happy  to  fully  express  my  appreciation," 
continued  Mr.  Whiting,  "but  again  it  is  too  deep  for  verbal  expression. 
I  will  therefore  go  on  with  my  narrative.  I  married  when  I  was  twenty- 
nine;  she  was  but  a  few  days  younger  than  I,  though  my  mind,  com 
pared  with  hers,  was  an  infant.  I  was  not  specially  ambitious.  I  had 
a  fair  degree  of  ability,  but  used  only  a  small  fraction  of  it,  having 
no  particular  aim  in  life  and  no  real  desire  to  do  more  than  what  was 
necessary  to  earn  a  comfortable  living.  I  had  physical  strength,  but 
my  personality  was  weak  and  somewhat  crude." 

"And  to  think  that  you  now  are  what  you  are,"  exclaimed  Mr. 
Spaulding,  "the  most  refined  and  highly  polished  personality  I  ever 
saw,  and  with  a  personal  power  that  could  hold  an  audience  of  a 
million  in  a  breathless  spell  of  adoration  and  awe.  Wonderful!  Won 
derful!  But  go  on,  please  go  on." 

"Immediately  after  our  marriage  I  began  to  see  what  could  be 
done  to  restore  my  wife  to  perfect  health.  But  there  seemed  to  be 
nothing  that  could  be  done.  She  had  tried  everything;  that  is,  she 
thought  she  had,  all  to  no  effect.  I  therefore  began  to  feel  more  and 
more  that  there  was  no  help,  and  was  almost  on  the  verge  of  reconciling 
myself  to  her  pitiful  condition.  Then  something  happened.  During 
the  first  year  of  our  marriage  her  condition  remained  unchanged ;  she 
got  neither  better  nor  worse;  but  at  the  beginning  of  the  second  year 
she  began  to  get  worse.  And  that  was  the  beginning  of  the  change^ 
I  began  to  realize  that  I  might  lose  her;  and  as  I  thought  of  what 
such  a  loss  might  mean  to  me  I  began  to  look  at  her  in  a  manner  that 


36 The  Will   and  The  Way 

I  had  not  been  conscious  of  before.  Gradually  it  dawned  upon  me  that 
I  had  a  most  precious  jewel.  I  had  always  thought  of  her  as  an  ex 
traordinary  woman,  but  now  I  began  to  see  that  she  could  possibly  not 
have  an  equal  anywhere  in  the  world.  And  should  such  a  woman  die? 
I  declared,  "No!  a  million  times  no!'  and  for  the  first  time  my  soul  was 
really  alive.  There  were  two  things  to  be  done.  I  must  find  some 
thing  to  make  her  well,  and  I  must  do  something  to  get  a  better  posi 
tion,  so  that  her  needs  could  be  properly  provided  for.  I  then  had  two 
ambitions,  two  ruling  desires,  while  previous  to  that  I  had  none." 

"There  is  where  the  power  of  persistent  desire  began  its  work,  did 
it  not?"  inquired  Mr.  Reardon. 

"Yes,  there  is  where  it  began;  and  from  that  moment  those  two 
desires — the  desire  to  find  something  to  make  her  well  and  the  desire 
to  secure  a  better  position  for  myself — became  stronger  and  stronger 
until  they  seemed  to  dominate  every  thought,  every  action,  and  the 
very  life  of  every  atom  in  my  being.  Hundreds  of  times  every  day 
I  would  say  to  myself:  '1  must  find  something  to  make  her  well,' 
'there  must  be  a  way,  and  I  am  determined  to  find  it.'  1  would  express 
myself  in  a  similar  manner  concerning  a  better  position,  and  I  dis 
covered  that  the  more  I  thought  of  realizing  those  two  desires,  the 
more  power  and  persistence  they  seemed  to  gain.  This  would  increase 
my  faith  in  myself,  and  it  was  not  many  weeks  before  I  began  to  believe 
that  I  actually  would  find  what  I  sought.  In  about  four  months  my 
expectations  were  realized.  One  evening  I  purchased  a  paper  having 
the  opposite  political  complexion  to  the  one  I  was  accustomed  to  read. 
That  was  something  1  had  not  done  in  several  years.  Why  I  should 
buy  that  paper  that  evening  I  shall  not  venture  to  explain;  though  1 
have  an  idea;  we  may  discuss  that  some  other  time;  but  I  bought  that 
paper,  and  it  contained  what  I  wanted  to  know.  I  put  it  in  my  pocket, 
and  when  I  reached  home  I  gave  it  to  my  wife,  not  having  read  a  word 
in  it  myself.  She  opened  it  and  turned  at  once  to  the  editorial  page, 
something  she  had  never  done  before,  it  being  her  custom  invariably 
to  begin  with  the  first  page  and  read  right  on  to  the  last.  The  first 
thing  she  saw  was  a  small  paragraph,  down  in  the  lower  right-hand 
corner,  and  the  title  was  'A  Remarkable  Cure.'  The  paragraph  went 
on  to  say  that  a  certain  woman  had  been  cured  by  the  use  of  a  strange 
power  awakened  in  her  own  system.  It  gave  the  name  and  address 
of  the  woman  and  a  few  general,  unintelligible  statements  concerning 
that  power.  That  was  all.  But  I  lost  no  time.  Within  twenty  minutes 
I  was  having  an  interview  with  that  woman.  She  told  me  that  it  was 
the  'Janos  Philosophy'  that  had  made  her  well,  and  gave  me  the  ad 
dress  of  that  remarkable  man." 

"But  if  that  doesn't  sound  mysterious  from  beginning  to  end,"  ex 
claimed  Mr.  Spaulding;  "but  I  must  admit  that  it  is  fascinating  beyond 
anything  I  ever  heard." 

"Yes,  it  sounds  mysterious;  but  it  happened ;  and  it  was  the  means 
through  which  the  power  of  my  persistent  desire  realized  its  object  in 
view.  Besides,  hundreds  of  such  events  are  taking  place  in  every 
community  every  day;  and  when  we  stop  to  think  about  them  we  find 


The   Will   and   The   Way 37 

that  they  are  not  any  more  mysterious  than  the  fact  that  you  can  hear 
the  sound  of  my  voice." 

"You  are  right,  Mr.  Whiting.  Everything  is  mysterious;  and  from 
a  certain  point  of  view  everything  is  weird.  Though  it  is  also  a  fact 
that  the  more  mysterious  a  thing  seems  to  be  at  first  sight,  the  simpler 
it  becomes  when  we  understand  it.  The  answer  being,  I  suppose,  that 
such  things  lie  closer  to  first  principles,  and  those  first  principles,  the 
foundation  of  things,  are  naturally  the  very  essence  of  simplicity." 

"That  explains  it  perfectly,  Mr.  Spaulding;  and  I  cannot  tell  you 
how  happy  I  am  to  know  that  your  mind  also  finds  delight  in  going 
down  to  rock  bottom." 

"Yes,  I  think  I  have  some  real  ideas,  not  counterfeits  or  cheap 
imitations;  but  I  have  not  learned  how  to  turn  them  all  to  practical 
use.  There  is  where  you  have  succeeded  so  admirably,  Mr.  Whiting; 
and  if  you  are  through  with  your  preliminary  narrative,  I  wish  to  ask 
you  how  you  began  to  apply  that  new  philosophy.  What  did  you 
do  first,  second,  third,  fourth,  and  so  on?" 

"Yes,  I  am  through  with  the  first  chapter  of  my  narrative,  except 
to  add  that  Mrs.  Whiting  and  myself  began  the  very  next  day  to 
study  the  'Janos  Philosophy.'  She  began  to  improve  in  health  from 
the  very  beginning,  and  was  entirely  well  in  less  than  five  months. 
A  few  weeks  later  I  secured  a  new  position  with  twice  the  salary  I 
received  before.  That  was  three  years  and  a  half  ago.  What  has 
happened  since  would  fill  a  book." 

"And  it  would  read  like  the  most  fascinating  of  fiction,  I  am 
sure,"  said  Mr.  Reardon. 

"Yes,  it  would  to  me,  because  I  know  that  it  is  all  true;  and  the 
nearer  you  get  to  truth  the  easier  it  is  to  outdo  fiction,  both  as  to 
mysteriousness  and  fascination.  But  you  are  waiting,  Mr.  Spaulding, 
for  an  answer  to  your  question." 

"Yes,  I  am  waiting  with  measured  breath,  and  I  shall  be  more 
deeply  interested  in  your  answer  than  anything  I  have  ever  heard. 
My  reason  is  that  the  ideas  back  of  your  answer  have  produced  such 
extraordinary  results;  and  with  me  it  is  results  that  count." 

"There  were  several  things,"  continued  Mr.  Whiting,  "that  I 
undertook  to  do  first;  and  one  of  them  was  to  train  myself  to  be 
strong  and  quiet  on  the  inner  side!  of  my  personality." 

"And  what  do  you  mean  by  the  inner  side?" 

"Everything  that  is  not  on  the  surface.  The  actual  and  vital 
contents  of  your  system,  both  personal  and  mental.  Or,  everything 
that  you  feel  in  your  nature  when  you  feel  deeply." 

"I  understand;  but  what  was  your  object  in  doing  this,  and  how 
did  you  proceed?" 

"I  tried  to  combine  the  feeling  of  all  the  strength  I  could  realize 
with  the  feeling  of  the  deepest  calm  I  could  realize.  The  object  was 
to  gain  personal  power,  and  to  gain  perfect  control  over  that  power." 

"Is  this  the  only  method  you  have  employed  in  building  up  your 
personal  power  to  such  an  astonishing  degree?" 


38 The  Will   and   The  Way 

"What  personal  power  I  have  I  have  gained  principally  through 
this  method." 

"In  that  case  it  needs  no  further  recommendation.  Because, 
when  it  comes  to  personal  power,  both  in  quantity  and  in  quality, 
you  tower  mountains  above  anyone  I  ever  saw.  Mr.  Whiting,  every 
movement  you  make  is  a  movement  of  authority  and  power.  Your 
very  attitude  is  a  command ;  and  when  you  speak  there  is  something 
in  your  tone  that  makes  me  feel  as  if  it  were  not  only  a  sacred  duty 
but  a  great  privilege  to  obey.  And  yet,  you  do  not  seem  to  make  the 
slightest  effort  to  influence  or  control  anybody." 

"That  is  the  truth,  Mr.  Spaulding.  I  never  try  to  control  anybody; 
I  would  lose  my  power  if  1  should;  I  simply  control  myself.  And 
this  comes  naturally  when  the  art  of  being  strong  and  calm  at  the  same 
time  is  constantly  cultivated." 

"But  how  do  you  proceed  to  combine  those  two  attitudes?  Is 
there  any  special  easy  method?" 

"There  is  no  special  method,  to  my  knowledge.  And  I  never 
found  it  necessary  to  inquire  about  such  a  method.  I  secured  the 
results  I  desired  by  simply  beginning,  as  far  as  1  could,  to  be  quiet 
and  strong  in  my  deeper  feelings,  and  then  continuing  as  I  had  be 
gun." 

"Is  that  all  there  is  to  it?" 

"Practically  so.  I  made  it  a  point  to  feel  strong  and  quiet 
constantly,  and  to  feel  the  combined  actions  of  those  two  feelings  as 
deeply  as  possible.  I  try  to  live  in  an  attitude  that  combines  calmness 
and  strength;  I  try  to  do  all  my  work  in  that  attitude,  and  several 
times  a  day  I  give  a  few  moments  to  the  further  cultivation  of  tKat 
attitude.  Continued  efforts  in  trying  to  feel  very  strong  and  deeply 
quiet  at  the  same  time  will  train  the  system  to  build  up  that  at 
titude.  Then  it  becomes  second  nature,  an  acquired  state,  a  newly 
developed  power." 

"1  is  a  matter  of  making  up  your  mind  what  you  want  to  do, 
and  then  making  up  your  mind  to  continue  to  do  what  you  originally 
made  up  your  mind  to  do." 

"You  have  stated  the  simple  fact,  Mr.  Spaulding,  both  wisely 
and  well." 

"Yes,  it  is  quite  clear  to  me,  and  I  can  readily  understand  how 
this  attitude  could  be  cultivated  to  such  a  degree  that  its  possibilities 
would  be  nothing  less  than  marvelous.  But  what  were  the  other 
things,  Mr.  Whiting,  that  you  undertook  to  do  first?" 

"I  began  to  build  up  my  ambition  for  what  I  wanted  to  accom 
plish  in  life.  And  I  selected  that  ambition  that  produced  the  deepest 
impression  upon  my  mind  and  the  keenest  delight  in  my  heart  when  1 
thought  of  it.  Though  I  did  not  make  my  choice  until  1  had  turned  the 
matter  over  in  my  mind,  consciously  and  subconsciously,  for  several 
weeks." 

"And  what  was  your  choice,  Mr.  Whiting?" 

"To  become  the  manager  of  a  great  concern;  to  guide  men — not 
to  control  men — but  to  guide  men  in  their  work.  And  every  position 


The   Will   and   The   Way  39 

I  have  held  since  I  began  to  advance  has  given  me  the  privilege  to 
exercise  this  ambition." 

"But  how  do  you  account  for  the  fact  that  your  ability  to  carry 
out  this  ambition  has  steadily  developed?  Is  there  some  other  method 
through  which  this  has  been  done?" 

"When  you  become  more  and  more  ambitious  to  do  a  certain 
thing,  the  force  of  that  ambition  will  steadily  increase  the  power  and 
the  working  capacity  of  those  faculties  that  are  naturally  called  into 
action  as  you  proceed  to  carry  out  that  ambition." 

"I  understand.  If  I  should  become  more  and  more  ambitious 
to  become  a  great  musician,  the  force  of  that  ambition  would  tend  to 
develop  the  musical  faculties." 

"Precisely;  but  results  would  depend  largely  upon  how  well  you 
had  cultivated  the  deeply  calm  attitude.  The  greatest  forces  in  the 
universe  move  in  absolute  stillness,  and  it  is  only  the  force  that  is  still 
that  has  the  power  to  build." 

"Your  ideas  are  most  excellent,  Mr.  Whiting.  You  certainly 
have  the  rock  bottom  of  things  as  your  foundation.  But  kindly  pro 
ceed." 

"The  power  of  persistent  desire  was  the  third  factor  that  I  began 
to  employ  at  the  very  beginning;  and  with  this  I  combined  the  atti 
tude  of  positive  expectation.  I  would  desire  constantly  and  persistent 
ly  whatever  I  wanted;  then  I  would  expect  to  receive  what  I  wanted. 
But  my  expectation  was  never  passive;  it  was  always  active  in  the 
fullest  and  most  positive  sense.  Another  important  factor  was  what 
I  am  pleased  to  call  constructive  optimism." 

"That's  new,  but  it  has  the  right  ring.  Kindly  explain  it,  won't 
you  please?" 

"The  constructive  optimist  incessantly  declares  that  everything 
is  coming  out  all  right,  and  is  constantly  at  work  with  might  and 
main  to  make  his  prediction  come  true." 

"Splendid,  indeed.  If  that  is  optimism,  then  I  am  every  inch 
an  optimist.  And  I  can  readily  understand  that  such  an  optimism 
would  have  the  same  effect  upon  a  man's  career  as  a  propeller  would 
have  upon  a  ship.  As  long  as  that  optimism  was  in  action  the  move 
ment  would  be  forward  regardless  of  the  waves  and  the  storm." 

"Yes,  that  is  the  truth  in  every  instance,  and  there  are  no  ex 
ceptions  whatever.  But  now,  Mr.  Spaulding,  I  am  going  to  sum  up 
those  several  things  that  I  undertook  to  do  first.  So  if  you  have  further 
questions,  kindly  get  them  ready.  My  final  step  in  this  first  move 
ment  toward  better  things  was  to  become  an  uncompromising  idealist. 
I  began  to  use  all  the  forces  of  thought  and  imagination  in  working 
up  to  my  ideal,  and  I  began  to  train  all  my  faculties  to  focus  their 
activities  upon  that  goal  I  had  in  view;  and  I  am  now  convinced  that 
every  element  in  my  being  is  working  for  me,  working  with  me,  helping 
me  to  press  on  and  on  toward  everything  that  I  am  determined  to 
reach." 

"That  is  the  greatest  secret  of  all,  is  it  not,  Mr.  Whiting?" 

"Which  might  be  the  greatest  is  difficult  to  say,  because  they  are 


40 The  Will   and   The  Way 

all  necessary;  but  one  thing  is  certain,  when  everything  that  is  in  you 
is  working  for  the  same  purpose  that  you  are  working  for,  that  purpose 
will  be  fulfilled.  When  all  of  you  is  with  you,  no  obstacle  is  great 
enough  to  stand  in  your  way." 

"The  more  you  say,  Mr.  Whiiting,  the  more  convinced  I  become 
that  you  have  the  kernel,  the  very  thing  we  all  want.  Your  ideas 
are  as  sound  as  the  principles  of  mathematics,  and  it  is  my  conviction 
that  those  ideas  will  solve  all  our  problems  when  we  begin  to  apply 
them  as  you  are  doing.  I  could  ask  you  a  thousand  questions  this 
minute,  but  I  shall  not  take  up  any  more  of  your  time  just  now.  You 
have  said  many  times  as  much  as  would  have  been  necessary  to  con 
vince  me  of  your  fitness  for  a  certain  important  position,  that  I  shall 
now  take  the  pleasure  to  offer  you,  and  1  am  fully  satisfied  that  you  can 
fill  that  position  with  greater  efficiency  than  any  other  man  that  could 
be  found." 

"Mr.  Spaulding,  your  kindness  is  great  indeed,  and  I  assure  you 
that  a  kindness  shown  to  me  is  never  forgotten." 

"I  believe  everything  you  say,  Mr.  Whiting,  and  now  I  am 
going  to  tell  you  what  this  interview  has  been  all  about.  One  of  my 
best  friends  is  president  of  a  large  manufacturing  concern  in  this  city. 
For  certain  reasons,  the  details  of  which  we  shall  not  discuss  just  now, 
the  manager  resigned.  There  are  several  men  under  consideration 
for  the  vacancy,  but  they  are  hardly  big  enough  for  the  place.  My 
friend  telephoned  to  me  this  morning,  and  asked  my  assistance  in 
finding  a  good  man,  and  he  said  that  they  would  accept  without  further 
question  any  man  that  I  might  recommend.  And  I  thought  of  you, 
Mr.  Whiting,  at  once.  Though  I  knew  nothing  about  you  this  morn 
ing,  except  what  I  saw  and  heard  of  you  while  you  were  in  here 
yesterday,  still  I  resolved  that  I  would  investigate  your  fitness  for  the 
place  before  I  even  thought  of  anyone  else.  Now  I  know  enough  about 
you  to  give  you  a  stronger  recommendation  than  I  could  give  to  any 
other  man  I  ever  knew.  That  position  is  for  you,  Mr.  Whiting,  and  I 
shall  be  happy  indeed  if  you  will  accept  it.  There  are  over  six 
thousand  men  employed  in  the  main  factory,  and  there  are  nearly 
half  as  many  more  in  the  branch  factories.  All  of  these  would  come 
under  your  supervision.  The  salary  is  $40,000  a  year." 

"Mr.  Spaulding,  words  cannot  thank  you  for  this,  but  actions 
speak  more  eloquently  than  words.  And  my  actions  will  speak  just 
exactly  as  I  feel.  I  will  accept  the  position,  and  may  the  day  come 
quickly  when  I  shall  have  the  opportunity  to  return  the  favor." 

The  three  men  parted,  all  going  to  their  respective  duties,  and  all 
realizing  that  big  things  had  happened  there  that  day,  as  expected. 
They  were  all  happy,  suremely  so;  to  each  one  of  them  the  future 
looked  brighter  than  ever  before;  they  felt  equal  to  anything  now; 
and  it  was  well,  for  little  did  they  dream  what  another  week  would 
bring  forth. 


The  Will   and   The  Way  41 

VIII 

All  was  happiness  and  good  cheer  at  the  home  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Whiting.  It  was  Wednesday  evening.  The  evening  Mildred  Kirkwood 
had  waited  for;  the  evening  Emory  Warren  had  waited  for;  the  even 
ing  Melville  Reardon  had  waited  for;  they  all  expected  to  hear 
something  that  evening  that  would  make  life's  pathway  more  rosy. 
They  knew  they  would  not  be  disappointed  in  this  respect,  and, 
therefore,  they  had  looked  forward  to  this  special  event  with  more 
than  usual  pleasure.  What  had  been  accomplished  in  this  exceptional 
home  was  not  a  secret;  what  was  to  be  said  there  that  evening  would 
not  be  theory.  And  these  three  young  people,  though  they  were  far 
superior  to  the  many  in  some  ways,  were  quite  similar  to  the  many  in 
other  ways.  Accordingly  they  came  with  expectant  souls,  attentive 
minds  and  open  hearts,  for  all  the  world  is  ready  to  listen  when  they 
who  have  had  results  begin  to  speak.  When  we  can  truthfully  say, 
"One  thing  I  know,  that,  whereas,  I  was  blind,  now  I  see,"  the  ma 
jority  are  willing,  yes,  and  anxious,  to  come  almost  any  distance  to 
learn  how  it  was  done. 

The  last  one  to  arrive  was  Emory  Warren;  possibly  because 
he  expected  the  least;  he  seldom  expected  anything,  and  usually  re 
ceived  less.  He  knew,  however,  what  Mrs.  Whiting  had  accomplished 
in  gaining  health,  happiness  and  almost  unmatchable  loveliness,  and 
he  had  read  a  few  days  before  about  Mr.  Whiting  entering  upon  the 
duties  of  his  new  position;  he  was  therefore  half  convinced  that  those 
people  knew  something  worth  while,  and  he  had  permitted  a  gentle 
ray  of  hope  to  dispel  some  of  the  dark  clouds  of  pessimism  from  his 
own  mind.  In  fact,  he  was  on  the  verge  of  being  converted  before  he 
came,  though  his  left  hand  was  holding  fast  to  his  preconceived  views 
with  an  iron  grip,  while  his  right  hand  was  aimlessly  groping  in  the 
world  of  uncertainty  for  something  better. 

"You  are  indeed  to  be  congratulated,  Mr.  Whiting,  for  the  great 
good  fortune  that  has  come  to  you,"  Emory  Warren  began,  as  all 
formalities  had  been  dispensed  with,  and  everybody  was  comfortably 
seated  in  one  of  the  most  delightful  home  atmosphere  in  the  world. 
"You  were  surely  in  luck  to  get  that  place,"  he  continued,  "if  there  is 
such  a  thing." 

"No,"  replied  Mr.  Whiting,  "there  is  no  such  thing  as  luck.  That 
word  can  only  be  employed  as  a  synonym  for  good  fortune  that  has 
come  through  enterprise  and  merit." 

"But  how  do  you  then  account  for  the  good  fortune  that  comes 
to  those  who  have  neither  enterprise  nor  merit?"  inquired  Mr.  Warren. 

"In  the  first  place,  such  a  fortune  can  hardly  be  designated  as 
good;  and  it  can  come  only  through  one  of  two  channels,  heredity  or 
illegitimate  gain.  With  the  latter  we  want  nothing  to  do,  and  with  the 
former  we  are  not  concerned,  because  we  are  here  to  make  our  own 
way  regardless  of  what  was  done  by  those  who  went  before." 

"Yes,  that  is  sound  doctrine  as  far  as  it  goes;  it  does  not  explain, 
however,  how  you  happened  to  be  singled  out  for  that  lucrative  posi* 
tion." 


42  The   Will   and   The   Way         

"Kindly  permit  me  to  say  a  word  in  that  connection,"  interrupted 
Mr.  Reardon.  "1  happen  to  know  the  circumstances.  Mr.  Spaulding 
was  so  deeply  impressed  with  Mr.  Whiting  that  when  he  learned  of 
that  vacancy  he  refused  to  consider  anyone  else  until  he  had  investi 
gated  the  fitness  of  Mr.  Whiting  thoroughly.  But  why  was  he  im 
pressed?  What  is  there  in  Mr.  Whiting  that  produced  such  an  in 
delible  impression  upon  the  mind  of  Mr.  Spaulding?  We  may  not  be 
able  to  clearly  define  that  something;  but  Mr.  Whiting  has  it,  and  it 
took  him  four  years  of  the  most  rigid  discipline  to  get  it.  But  it  was 
discipline  along  lines  that  finally  must  produce  results." 

"You  have  only  answered  my  question  in  part,"  replied  Mr. 
Warren,  rather  skeptically.  "You  have  failed  to  say  how  Mr.  Whiting 
happened  to  come  in  personal  contact  with  that  opportunity.  There 
are  plenty  of  able  men  in  the  world,  but  there  are  very  few  of  them 
that  ever  have  a  fair  chance." 

"That  is  a  very  large  subject,"  Mr.  Whiting  began,  as  his  coun 
tenance  gave  expression  to  that  comfortable  satisfaction  that  knows 
the  answer  even  before  the  question  is  placed.  "But  if  we  take  the 
time,  I  can  convince  you,"  he  continued  in  that  deep,  masterful  tone 
that  invariably  inspired  breathless  attention  in  everybody,  "that  those 
men  of  ability  who  never  have  a  fair  chance  have  no  one  but  them 
selves  to  blame.  They  may  have  ability,  but  they  fail  to  produce  a 
channel  for  that  ability." 

"Sound  doctrine  again,  as  far  as  you  go;  but  how  can  a  man 
produce  a  channel  for  his  ability  when  he  never  gets  an  opportunity 
to  do  so?" 

"Call  for  opportunity,  loud  and  long,  and  it  will  finally  come. 
No  person  ever  failed  to  get  the  opportunity  he  desired,  but  the  ma 
jority  failed  to  'make  good'  when  the  opportunity  arrives.  Point  out 
to  me  a  single  worthy  man  who  never  had  an  opportunity,  and  I  will 
point  out  to  you  a  thousand  men  who  have  scores  of  opportunities 
every  day,  but  they  are  unable  to  comply  with  requirements.  They 
have  only  desired  the  opportunity;  they  have  not  desired  that  power 
in  themselves  that  can  produce  results  in  the  workshop  of  opportunity. 
Opportunity  is  constantly  knocking  at  every  man's  door;  but  she  is 
not  simply  calling  for  men;  she  is  calling  for  men  who  are  competent 
to  do  what  she  needs  must  have  done." 

"That  reminds  me  of  a  certain  young  girl,"  Mrs.  Whiting  began, 
smiling  with  the  radiant  sweetness  of  a  sunbeam.  "This  girl  fell  in 
love  with  an  admirable  young  man,  and  he  fell  in  love  with  her.  He 
was  by  far  the  finest  young  man  she  had  ever  met,  and  he  confessed 
later  that  he  would  have  married  her  without  fail  had  she  not  spoiled 
it  all.  She  was  very  bright,  very  sweet  and  in  every  way  a  splendid 
woman.  She  was  very  much  interested  in  her  lover,  but  she  was  not 
interested  in  his  work,  his  life,  his  ambitions,  his  dreams.  At  any  rate, 
•he  made  no  attempt  to  enter  into  that  greater  world  of  achievement 
that  he  was  trying  to  conquer;  in  that  world  he  was  alone;  but  he 
would  not  have  been  alone  if  she  had  given  an  occasional  word  of 
sympathy,  appreciation  or  encouragement,  or  had  asked  questions  at 


The   Will   and   The   Way 43 

times  about  those  greater  things  to  which  he  had  devoted  his  life  and 
power.  She  had  an  opportunity;  the  one  opportunity  she  had  been 
praying  for  all  her  life;  but  when  it  came  she  was  found  wanting." 

"Now,  Mrs.  Whiting,  you  are  touching  upon  a  delicate  subject," 
ventured  Miss  Kirkwood,  her  quiet,  modest  way  tinctured  with  an 
undercurrent  of  enthusiasm.  "And  I  must  confess,"  she  added,  as  her 
face  reddened  quite  a  little  more  than  was  comfortable,  "that  it  is  a 
subject  in  which  I  am  deeply  interested." 

"You  would  not  be  a  real  girl  if  you  were  not,"  smiled  Mrs. 
Whiting.  "But  there  must  be  a  deficiency  somewhere  in  your  interest, 
or  you  would  have  been  married  long  ago.  Superior  girls  like  your 
self  need  not  be  single,  have  no  right  to  be  single." 

"Thank  you,  Mrs.  Whiting,  for  your  lofty  estimation  of  me,  but 
I  am  sure  I  don't  know  what  the  matter  can  be.  If  you  know,  my 
gratitude  to  you  shall  be  both  limitless  and  endless  if  you  will  tell  me." 

"Yes,  I  do  know,  and  I  invited  you  here  specially  tonight  so  I 
might  have  the  opportunity  to  tell  you." 

"And  before  these  men?" 

"Yes,  because  Mr.  Reardon  and  Mr.  Warren  are  just  as  much  in 
need  of  this  information  as  you  are." 

"Very  well  then,  Mrs.  Whiting,  go  on  and  tell  me  what  is 
wrong." 

"In  the  first  place,  you  don't  want  to  get  married." 

"Why,  Mrs.  Whiting,  it  has  been  the  dearest  wish  of  my  heart 
ever  since  I  was  a  little  girl." 

"It  might  have  been  a  very  dear  wish,  but  I  dare  say,  Mildred, 
it  was  never  a  very  strong  wish." 

"No,  you  are  quite  right  there." 

"It  never  stirred  your  soul,  did  it?" 

"No,  I  think  not." 

"It  was  very  sweet,  but  so  weak.  Just  a  pretty  dream  with  just 
enough  life  to  keep  alive.  Just  a  passing  fancy  without  sufficient 
force  even  to  rustle  a  tiny  leaf.  Am  I  right,  Mildred?" 

"You  certainly  are,  Mrs.  Whiting." 

"Then  you  cannot  truthfully  say  that  you  want  to  get  married. 
When  you  want  to  do  a  thing  you  will  not  merely  dream  sweetly; 
you  will  be  up  and  bestir  yourself;  every  atom  in  your  being  will  be 
alive,  ready  for  action,  and  your  soul  will  be  on  fire  with  the  resolute 
power  of  your  desire." 

"And  do  you  mean,"  Mr.  Warren  inquired,  "that  a  girl  must 
turn  loose  a  sort  of  sledgehammer  force  and  become  a  strenuous 
hustler  if  she  wishes  to  get  married?" 

"Not  in  the  least,"  Mrs.  Whiting  continued,  laughingly.  "No 
crude  force  and  no  crude  methods  must  be  employed.  But  when 
you  begin  to  want  to  do  what  you  want  to  do,  you  are  placing  in 
action  one  of  the  strongest  and  one  of  the  most  highly  refined  forced  \n 
existence." 

"Yes,  I  see  your  idea  there,  Mrs.  Whiting,  and  I  agree  with  you; 


44 The  Will   and   The  Way 

but  how  is  a  person  to  proceed  in  the  wanting  of  a  thing  so  that  it  will 
be  a  real  want  and  not  merely  a  passive  wish?" 

"When  you  want  a  thing  you  want  it  with  all  that  is  in  you,  and 
you  want  it  every  minute.  Every  thought  you  think  calls  for  that  one 
thing,  and  every  feeling  in  your  life  is  a  heart-felt  desire  for  that  one 
thing." 

"Dou  you  believe,"  Mr.  Reardon,  inquired,  "that  a  person  will 
finally  get  what  he  wants  providing  his  wants  are  deep,  strong  and 
continuous  in  the  sense  that  you  imply?" 

"I  positively  do,"  Mrs.  Whiting  replied,  as  her  eyes  flashed 
with  the  light  of  convincing  emphasis. 

"Then  will  you  kindly  explain  to  me  why  a  number  of  people 
continue  to  want  things  all  their  lives  but  never  get  them?" 

"Yes,  they  seem  to  want  certain  things  all  their  lives,  but  for 
how  many  seconds  at  a  time?  And  how  much  life,  soul,  spirit,  real 
action  is  there  in  their  wants  while  they  last?  Those  people  may 
think  of  their  wants  in  a  half-hearted  way  for  several  minutes,  and  then 
for  several  hours  their  minds  will  drift  aimlessly  among  all  the  wishes 
and  desires  in  creation." 

"Mrs.  Whiting,  I  am  beginning  to  thing  that  you  know  exactly 
what  you  are  talking  about,"  said  Mr.  Warren,  his  tone  verging  dan 
gerously  on  the  borderland  of  optimistic  enthusiasm.  "There  is  one 
thing,  however,  that  is  not  clear.  How  is  it  possible  that  the  act  of  your 
wanting  a  thing  will  enable  you  to  get  it?  It  seems  to  me  as  if  it  were 
a  mysterious  process,  and  1  refuse  to  associate  with  mysteries." 

"There  is  nothing  mysterious  about  it.  Just  do  it,  and  keep  at  it. 
Then  you  will  see  how  nicely  it  works.  And  my  explanation  is  that 
when  you  really  want  to  do  a  certain  thing,  you  cause  all  the  elements 
in  your  being  to  work  toward  that  certain  thing.  You  build  yourself 
up  after  the  likeness  of  the  thing  you  want;  you  begin  to  comply  more 
and  more  with  the  requirements  of  the  thing  you  want,  and  naturally 
you  will  soon  have  what  you  want.  The  best  wants  the  best.  Make 
yourself  equal  to  the  best  and  you  will  get  the  best.  And  also,  the  best 
attracts  the  best;  therefore,  make  yourself  like  the  best,  and  you  will 
be  drawn  into  the  world  of  the  best." 

"Suppose  two  people  should  want  the  same  thing,  what  would 
happen  then?" 

"One  of  these  days,  Mr.  Warren,  you  will  be  just  as  efficient  in 
answering  abtruse  questions  as  you  now  are  in  asking  them,"  said  Mrs. 
Whiting,  as  she  faced  him  squarely,  and  almost  melted  every  pessimis 
tic  icicle  out  of  his  soul  with  the  glowing  warmth  of  her  beaming  counte 
nance.  "But  when  you  begin  to  want  a  thing  every  minute,  and  with 
all  there  is  in  you,"  she  continued,  with  a  convincing  ring  in  her 
voice,  "you  will  either  get  what  you  want,  or  something  better.  The 
energetic,  alive,  thorough-going  optimist  will  not  have  to  take  some 
thing  'just  as  good.'  If  the  place  he  worked  for  is  already  occupied,  he 
will  be  asked  to  choose  from  vacancies  higher  up.  You  know,  there 
are  always  vacancies  higher  up." 

"True,  indeed,"  said  Mr.  Reardon,    "and  men  are  not  nearly  so 


The   Will   and   The   Way '        45 

anxious   to   find   those   places  higher  up   as   those   places   are   to    find 
men." 

"Yes,"  replied  Mrs.  Whiting,  meditatively;  "the  higher  up  you 
go  the  louder  does  the  place  call  for  the  man,  and  the  fewer  are  the 
men  within  hearing  distance." 

"That  all  sounds  very  pretty,"  said  Mr.  Warren,  half  sarcasti 
cally,  his  skepticism  and  pessimism  beginning  to  come  back  on  him; 
"but  the  fact  is  that  under  present  systems  the  doors  to  those  places 
higher  up  are  locked  to  the  average  man." 

"That's  true,"  said  Mrs.  Whiting  quickly;  "those  doors  are  locked 
to  everybody;  but  there  is  not  a  person  alive  that  does  not  possess 
the  key." 

"Very  pretty  again,  though  the  fact  remains  that,  under  present 
systems,  the  majority  are  not  permitted  to  come  close  enough  to  those 
doors  to  use  the  key." 

"Then,  how  do  you  account  for  the  fact  that  a  number  do  come 
close  enough  to  those  doors  regardless  of  present  systems?" 

"There  are  several  reasons." 

"No,  I  beg  to  differ  with  you.  On  the  surface  there  may  seem 
to  be  several  reasons,  but  in  reality  there  is  only  one.  Those  who 
succeed  do  so  by  becoming  greater  than  any  system,  greater  than  any 
circumstance,  greater  than  any  condition  or  environment.  They  do 
not  depend  upon  systems;  they  depend  upon  their  own  power  to  turn 
all  systems  and  all  circumstances  to  good  account." 

"That  is  all  very  well  for  the  masterful  few,  Mrs.  Whiting,  but 
it  does  not  solve  the  problem  for  the  many.  The  lives  of  the  masses 
cannot  change  for  the  better  until  their  environments  are  madei 
better." 

"And  who  produces  environment?  Can  you  point  out  to  me  a 
single  form  of  environment,  aside  from  natural  environment,  that 
has  not  been  produced  by  man?  You  cannot;  no  one  can.  You 
may  philosophize  on  this  subject  to  the  end  of  time;  you  may  offer  to 
explain  everything,  and  then  proceed  to  explain  your  explanations; 
but  the  fact  remains  that  environment  is  nothing  more  than  effect,  and 
man  is  the  sole  cause.  Man  is  the  creator;  in  his  hands  all  other 
things  constitute  plastic  clay." 

"Very  good,  Mrs.  Whiting,  very  good,  indeed;  thus  far  I  agree 
with  you  perfectly;  there  is  another  side  to  the  subject,  however.  We 
all  know  that  man  is,  in  turn,  affected  by  his  environment,  and  it  is 
admitted  by  close  students  of  all  schools  that  the  masses  are  almost 
entirely  controlled  by  their  environment,  not  only  morally,  but  men 
tally  and  physically,  as  well." 

"You  are  right,  Mr.  Warren;  I  agree  with  you  fully,  and  I  am 
convinced  that  when  we  have  exchanged  views  on  all  these  great  sub 
jects,  we  shall  differ  on  but  few  things,  if  any.  And  I  am  very, 
glad  that  you  mentioned  the  other  side.  There  is  where  the  secret 
lies.  Man  creates  his  own  environment,  and  then,  in  turn,  is  affected 
by  that  environment;  but  he  need  not  be  controlled  by  the  way  he 
is  thus  affected,  because  he  has  the  power  to  determine,  each  case, 


46       ' The  Will   and   The  Way 

what  that  effect  is  to  be.  No  external  thing  can  affect  man  unless  it 
first  produces  its  impression  upon  his  mind.  But  man  can  sufficiently 
control  his  mind  to  exclude  impressions  that  are  not  wanted.  There 
are  some  things  in  every  man's  environment  that  will  produce  effects, 
but  there  are  also  some  things  in  his  environment,  no  matter  how 
lowly  or  adverse  it  may  be,  that  are  beneficial.  By  denying  undesir 
able  environments  the  privilege  to  impress  his  mind,  and  by  admitting 
impressions  from  everything  that  is  beneficial  in  his  environment,  he 
will  be  affected  only  by  the  beneficial.  Accordingly,  he  will  steadily 
build  himself  up,  and  will  work  himself  out  of  that  which  he  does 
not  want  into  that  which  he  does  want.  His  circumstances  will  become 
his  servants,  because,  so  long  as  he  guards  the  portals  of  his  mind, 
they  have  the  power  to  do  only  that  which  he  desires  to  have  done." 

"You  have  given  me  something  new  to  think  about,"  Mr.  Warren 
replied,  slowly  and  thoughtfully.  "I  shall  have  to  reconstruct  my  views 
completely  now.  But  I  think  I  see  in  your  ideas  the  germ  of  a  system 
of  thought  and  action  that  will  solve  everything  for  everybody.  Given 
that  system,  it  is  'up  to  them'  to  use  it  as  they  like,  and  get  out  of  it 
what  they  want.  And  1  can  readily  see  that  any  man  could,  through 
such  a  sysem,  have  all  his  wants  and  desires  supplied." 

They  were  all  silent  for  a  few  moments,  when  Mr.  Warren,  real 
izing  the  full  value  of  this  new  idea  he  had  received,  rose  to  his  feet 
and  stepped  quickly  toward  Mrs.  Whiting.  "Thank  you,"  he  said,  his 
face  beaming  with  unspeakable  joy  and  gratitude,  as  he  extended  to 
her  his  hand.  "You  have  made  me  a  new  man,  and  through  me  you 
shall  make  new  the  lives  of  a  million.  I  have  something  to  live  for 
now,  and  I  shall  live  for  it  with  all  the  power  of  body,  mind  and  soul. 
Thank  God  for  this  evening;  no  one  knows  what  it  means  to  me;  no 
one  knows  what  it  shall  mean  to  great  multitudes;  but  time  will  tell  it 
all.  I  cannot  now.  I  wish  I  could,  so  that  I  might  express  my  gratitude 
in  words  as  I  feel  it  in  my  soul.  But  when  a  life  is  completely  trans 
formed,  who  can  find  words  to  describe  the  glory,  the  beauty  and  the 
meaning  of  it  all?" 

"We  all  understand,"  Mrs.  Whiting  replied,  gently  and  sweetly. 
"We  all  understand.  And  we  rejoice  for  the  million  infinitely  more 
than  tongue  can  tell.  We  know  what  you  are  going  to  do,  and  we 
know  that  you  will  carry  out  your  great  purpose  far  beyond  your  most 
lofty  expectations." 

"Thank  you  again,  Mrs.  Whiting,  and  then  again  and  again  with 
out  end ;  that  is  all  that  I  can  say.  And  now  I  must  go.  I  must  be 
alone.  I  must  think.  I  want  to  be  still  with  my  soul  and  my  God. 
I  feel  that  I  must.  So  kindly  excuse  me.  I  know  you  will  all  under 
stand." 

The  sudden  and  somewhat  solemn  departure  of  Emory  Warren 
produced  an  atmosphere  that  was  hardly  conducive  to  the  immediate 
resumption  of  a  subject  that  Miss  Kirkwood  imagined  might  seem 
trivial  under  the  circumstances.  But  she  was  determined  to  be  told 
all  that  had  been  promised,  and  therefore  after  about  fifteen  minutes 


The   Will   and   The   Way         47 

of  general  conversation  she  decided  to  arouse  sufficient  courage  to 
present  her  case  once  more. 

"You  said  you  knew  what  was  wrong  with  me,  Mrs.  Whiting," 
she  began,  shyly;  "did  you  say  all  that  you  intended  to  say?" 

"No,  I  simply  said,  'in  the  first  place.'  That  expression  would 
naturally  infer  that  there  was  something  more  to  be  said.  And  there  is." 

"Oh,  but  I  should  be  so  happy  to  hear  the  rest." 

"And  I  did  not  intend  to  let  you  go  until  1  had  told  you  the  rest." 

"That  is  one  of  her  admirable  virtues,"  interrupted  Mr.  Whiting. 
"She  never  fails  to  do  what  she  makes  up  her  mind  to  do." 

"That  may  be  the  reason  why  she  never  fails,"  said  Mr.  Reardon. 

"You  are  right,"  Mr.  Whiting  replied  promptly.  "And  you  have 
touched  there  upon  a  most  remarkable  subject." 

"Won't  you  tell  us  something  about  it,  please,"  asked  Miss  Kirk- 
wood.  "I  never  seem  to  be  able  to  make  up  my  mind  properly,  and 
I  know  it  is  very  important." 

"It  is  very  important,  because  when  you  make  up  your  mind  to  do 
a  certain  thing  you  set  all  your  faculties  to  work  to  find  a  way  to  do  it, 
And  they  always  succeed,  providing  the  mind  continues  in  its  original 
purpose." 

"Another  great  secret  unveiled,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Reardon,  as  he 
sprang  from  his  chair  and  shook  Mr.  Whiting's  hand  vigorously.  "Well, 
I  wonder  what  is  coming  next." 

"Oh,  everything,"  said  Miss  Kirkwood,  softly,  with  a  prophetic 
ring  in  her  voice. 

"Yes,  I  know  that,"  replied  Mr.  Reardon;  "but  it  would  be  so 
interesting  to  know  what  is  going  to  come  in  the  meantime." 

"What  is  wrong  with  me,  for  one  thing,"  she  said  demurely. 

"Yes,  and  now  I  am  going  to  tell  you,"  Mrs.  Whiting  continued. 
"In  the  second  place,  you  do  not  give  yourself  a  fair  chance.  You 
hide  your  best  qualities.  You  live  in  a  passive,  negative  state,  and 
do  not  give  expression  to  the  richness  that  is  in  you.  To  the  general 
observer  you  appear  to  be  just  average,  but  to  those  who  can  see 
through  more  superficial  appearance,  you  prove  yourself  to  be  a  jewel 
of  the  first  rank.  As  you  appear  now,  very  few  men  would  be  attracted 
to  you ;  but  by  making  a  few  slight  changes  in  your  attitude  you  would 
attract  the  admiration  of  the  finest  men  in  the  world." 

"But  that  is  too  good  to  be  true,"  declared  Miss  Kirkwood,  try 
ing  to  appear  as  delighted  as  she  felt,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  her  face 
was  on  the  verge  of  burning  up. 

"Nothing  is  too  good  to  be  true,"  replied  Mrs.  Whiting,  em 
phatically.  "All  that  is  true  is  good,  and  all  that  is  good  is  true." 

"That  is  indeed  a  beautiful  thought.  But  what  are  those  slight 
changes?" 

"Begin  with  your  smile.  Make  your  smile  sweetly  expressive. 
A  passive  smile  may  arouse  a  slight  degree  of  admiration,  but  a  posi; 
tive  s,mile  is  invariably  fascinating.  Any  woman  can,  by  training  her 
self  to  express  through  her  smile  all  the  sweetness  that  is  in  her  nature, 


48  The   Will   and   The   Way 

become  so  fascinating  that  she  will  be  simply  irresistible.  You  under 
stand  what  I  mean,  of  course?" 

"Yes,  Mrs.  Whiting,  I  do.  That  is  something  that  I  think  every 
woman  understands.  But  not  every  woman  knows  the  difference 
between  the  smile  that  fascinates  and  the  one  that  does  not.  But 
now  that  1  know,  I  shall  proceed  at  once  to  cultivate  the  former. 
And  I  thank  you  so  much.  I  am  going  to  act  upon  your  advice  in 
every  respect;  and  now  watch  me  get  the  best  man  in  the  world." 

"And  when  you  have  succeeded,"  interrupted  Mr.  Reardon, 
"offer  the  recipe  for  sale,  and  you  will  be  a  millionaire  in  less  than  a 
year." 

"No,  indeed,"  she  declared  emphatically,  as  she  rose  to  say 
good-night;  "the  recipe  shall  be  free  to  every  girl  in  the  world." 


IX 

It  was  nearly  twelve  o'clock  when  Melville  Reardon  said  good 
night  to  the  girl  with  the  golden  hair.  The  Friday  evening  at  the 
home  of  Mrs.  Arnold  had  come  and  gone,  but  the  real  effect  of  this 
event  was  just  beginning.  The  evening  had  been  pleasant  in  many 
ways,  but  in  one  way,  at  least,  it  had  been  disappointing.  The  dis 
appointment,  however,  did  not  dawn  upon  the  mind  of  Mr.  Reardon 
until  he  was  out  on  the  street  on  the  way  to  his  own  home.  He  had 
several  blocks  to  walk  before  he  could  get  the  car  he  wanted,  and  as 
he  walked  on  slowly  he  began  to  reflect. 

According  to  his  judgment,  when  he  was  alone,  Elviria  Cameron 
was  very  sweet  and  pretty,  and  almost  charming,  though  not  quite. 
Her  personality  was  attractive,  her  hair  could  not  have  been  more 
beautiful,  and  her  deep  .blue  eyes  had  that  mellow,  liquid  expression 
that  most  men  admire  so  much.  Her  mouth  could  not  be  easily  im 
proved  upon,  and  her  face  as  a  whole  was  all  that  a  particular  man 
could  wish  as  far  as  form  and  complexion  were  concerned.  But  there 
was  one  thing  lacking,  and  that  one  thing  was  the  most  important 
of  all. 

She  was  not  crude;  no,  not  in  any  form  or  manner;  but  she 
did  not  possess  the  slightest  degree  of  that  indescribable  something 
in  a  fine  woman  that  he  usually  spoke  of  as  a  high  polish.  And  he 
had  always  said  that  he  could  not  be  satisfied  with  a  girl  that  did  not 
possess  that  special  quality.  The  elements  of  her  being  did  not  seem 
to  contain  that  richer  fineness  that  he  thought  the  true  feminine  per 
sonality  should  possess,  and  there  was  a  certain  hollowness  in  her  voice 
that  revealed  unmistakably  the  lack  of  culture.  But  she  was  good 
company,  and  made  every  effort  to  be  pleasing  and  entertaining;  she 
had  said  nothing,  however,  that  was  of  particular  interest,  a  fact  which 
had  strangely  escaped  his  mind  until  now  when  he  was  alone. 

From  the  very  moment  he  first  saw  her  he  had  felt  himself  falling 
in  love  with  her,  and  as  he  was  saying  good-night  that  evening  in  the 
hallway  of  her  own  home,  he  had  asked  her  if  he  might  have  the 


The   Will   and   The  Way         49 

pleasure  to  call.  He  had  told  Mrs.  Arnold  he  intended  to  do  this,  but 
after  leaving  the  genial  atmosphere  of  that  impressive  personality  he 
had  partly  changed  his  mind.  It  seemed  that  he  thought  more  of 
Miss  Cameron  when  they  were  with  Mrs.  Arnold  than  when  they  were 
alone.  Nevertheless,  at  the  last  moment  he  had  asked  to  call,  and  had 
even  stated  definitely  what  evening  he  might  be  expected.  He  had 
given  no  thought  to  the  possible  outcome  of  such  a  course,  and  he  had 
been  strangely  unconscious  of  the  fact  that  this  golden-haired  maiden 
did  not  correspond  in  the  least  with  the  "one  woman  of  his  dreams." 

To  make  these  two  young  people  appear  as  interesting  to  each 
other  as  possible,  had  been  the  special  effort  of  Mrs.  Arnold  from  the 
moment  they  met  to  the  time  they  left  her  home  together.  She  aimed 
to  so  direct  the  conversation  that  she  might  draw  out  the  best  from 
Mr.  Reardon's  brilliant  intellect  and  at  the  same  time  inspire  Miss 
Cameron  to  say  everything  that  a  sweet  young  girl  should  say.  She 
tried  in  every  way,  without  seeming  to  do  so,  to  impress  upon  the  mind 
of  Mr.  Reardon  that  Miss  Cameron  was  one  of  the  rarest  of  jewels, 
and  she  tried  in  the  same  way  to  impress  upon  the  mind  of  Miss 
Cameron  that  Mr.  Reardon  was  a  man  that  had  few  equals,  if  any. 
To  make  these  two  look  at  each  other  in  the  most  favorable  manner 
was  her  object,  and  she  succeeded.  She  would  vacate  the  room,  on 
some  pretense  or  other,  for  a  few  moments,  at  frequent  intervals  during 
the  evening,  and  when  the  couple  was  getting  ready  to  leave  she  found 
ways  and  means  to  say  something  encouraging  to  each  of  them  without 
the  knowledge  of  the  other. 

"Now  you  must  make  arrangements  to  call  and  see  Miss  Came 
ron,"  she  said  to  Mr.  Reardon  while  the  young  woman  was  in  another 
part  of  the  house.  "But  she  is  a  rare  jewel,"  she  continued,  "one  of 
the  most  splendid  girls  that  ever  was.  You  have  an  opportunity  there. 
See  that  you  embrace  it  at  once,  metaphorically  first,  and  literally 
later,"  she  concluded  in  a  tone  that  spoke  much  between  the  lines. 

"Don't  let  him  slip  out  of  your  hands,"  she  said  to  Miss  Cameron, 
as  she  managed  to  arrange  an  "aside."  "He  is  too  good  to  lose. 
Treat  him  nicely  and  well  now.  Be  just  as  sweet  to  him  as  you  can, 
and  make  yourself  just  as  attractive  and  interesting  as  possible.  He 
is  certainly  a  man  worth  having,  my  dear  girl.  You  will  never  meet 
anyone  who  can  compare  with  him  in  brilliancy,  character  and  real, 
manly  worth.  This  has  been  a  lucky  night  for  you.  Now  see  that  you 
take  full  advantage  of  the  opportunity." 

The  young  people  had  acted  upon  these  impressions  and  seem 
ingly  well-meant  suggestions  without  knowing  the  reason  why;  and 
for  the  time  being  they  were  in  love ;  at  least,  they  imagined  they  were, 
and  had  made  arrangements  accordingly  to  continue  as  they  had 
begun. 

Coming  to  the  corner  where  he  was  to  get  his  car,  Mr.  Reardon 
took  a  hasty  glance  at  his  surroundings.  He  was  now  in  a  different 
part  of  the  city,  a  section  with  which  he  was  not  familiar,  and  as 
he  expected  to  wait  for  a  car  many,  many  times  at  that  corner  hence 
forth,  he  decided  to  look  around  and  become  acquainted.  And  in 


50  The   Will    and   The   Way 


doing  so  he  saw  a  party  of  young  people  coming  directly  to  where  he 
was  standing.  They  were  all  gaily  dressed,  and  evidently  in  a  similar 
frame  of  mind,  judging  from  the  tone  of  their  conversation.  They 
passed  him,  but  stopped  a  few  yards  further  on,  and  he  guessed  that 
they  were  looking  for  the  same  car.  He  noticed  there  were  four  young 
ladies  and  three  men,  and  he  thought  he  recognized  one  of  the  men. 
The  recognition  proved  mutual,  for  the  man  in  question  approached 
him  at  once. 

"Why,  hello,  Reardon!"  he  said.  "You  remember  me,  do  you 
not?" 

"Yes,  I  do,  most  surely;  you  were  in  Mr.  Spaulding's  office  a  few 
days  ago,"  replied  Mr.  Reardon. 

"That's  right,  and  while  I  was  there  Mr.  Spaulding  told  me  you 
were  the  most  ambitious  young  man  he  had  ever  known.  I  happened 
to  mention  that  fact  to  our  party  tonight  and  one  of  the  girls  ex 
pressed  an  intense  desire  to  meet  you.  And  here  you  are;  what  good 
luck  for  her — and  for  you.  She  is  none  other  than  Miss  Lillian  Strong, 
a  fine  girl,  somewhere  between  thirty  and  thirty-five,  not  very  hand 
some,  but  worth  two  million,  all  in  her  own  right.  She  just  adores 
young  men  with  enormous  ambition,  and  since  you  are  said  to  be  the 
chief  of  that  tribe,  you  have  the  first  chance.  Come  along,  be  intro 
duced." 

Melville  Reardon  obeyed,  though  somewhat  reluctantly.  He  was 
not  exactly  timid,  but — he,  a  minor  clerk,  working  for  a  small  salary 
and  very  plainly  attired,  to  meet  a  fashionable  young  woman  having 
possibly  a  small  fortune  invested  in  her  present  raiment — the  idea 
disturbed  him  for  a  moment.  All  shyness  disappeared,  however,  at 
once  he  was  introduced,  for  she  placed  him  at  perfect  ease  by  engaging 
his  attention  in  a  most  interesting  conversation. 

When  the  street  car  they  had  all  been  waiting  for  finally  arrived, 
Miss  Strong  arranged  very  politely  and  very  tactfully  to  have  Mr. 
Reardon  occupy  the  same  seat  with  her.  And  she  thus  gave  herself 
the  opportunity  to  continue  her  conversation  in  the  same  interesting 
manner.  Mr.  Reardon  saw  at  once  that  she  was  a  very  bright  girl, 
well  bred,  highly  cultured,  and  fully  familiar  with  the  best  that  was 
going  on  in  the  world.  But  he  was  not  attracted  to  her  personality. 
She  had  refinement,  intellect,  character,  polish,  and  most  charming 
manners,  but  her  personality  was  decidedly  unattractive.  How  unfor 
tunate,  he  thought.  He  dfd  so  admire  a  pleasing  personality  in  a 
woman.  But  then,  he  suddenly  concluded,  if  she  had  been  a  woman 
of  fine  personality,  she  would  have  been  married  ten  years  ago.  So 
there  was  neither  gain  nor  consolation  for  him  either  way.  She  was  a 
splendid  woman,  however;  that  was  evident,  and  he  inwardly  felt  a 
strong  desire  to  know  her  better. 

As  she  discovered  that  she  was  nearing  her  destination,  she  finally 
said,  "I  have  learned  that  you  are  tremendously  ambitious,  and  I  do 
so  admire  ambition  in  a  man." 

"That  is  too  true,"  Mr.  Reardon  replied,  as  he  blushed  like  a 
girl.  "I  have  more  ambition  than  1  can  properly  care  for." 


The  Will   and   The  Way  51 

"But  I  should  so  love  to  have  you  tell  me  about  it,"  she  said,  as 
she  looked  at  him  in  such  a  sweet,  appealing  manner. 

"And  I  should  be  most  happy  to  tell  you  everything  that  could 
be  told  about  it,"  he  replied,  not  knowing  why  he  seemed  so  willing 
to  comply  with  her  wishes,  and  being  utterly  unconscious  of  the  fact 
that  he  had  never  told  those  secrets  to  anyone,  and  had  vowed  not  to 
do  so  while  he  was  single. 

"But  how  can  my  wish  be  granted?"  she  asked,  in  the  same  ir 
resistible  manner. 

"There  is  only  one  way,"  he  ventured,  feeling  himself  becoming 
nervous,  "and  that  is  for  me  to  ask  for  the  pleasure  to  call." 

"And  the  pleasure  will  not  be  yours  alone,"  she  replied,  in  a  tone 
that  revealed  genuine  delight.  "When  can  you  come?"  she  added,  as 
her  dark  eyes  sparkled  with  the  thrill  of  joyous  expectation. 

"Sunday  evening,  if  that  may  comply  with  your  best  conven 
ience,"  he  replied,  though  hardly  being  aware  at  the  time  of  the 
"why,"  "where"  or  "when"  of  anything. 

"You  cannot  come  too  soon,"  she  said,  her  manner  seemingly 
becoming  sweeter  and  more  irresistible  than  ever.  "And  I  shall  wait 
for  Sunday  evening  with  a  joy  that  will  be  unusual,  indeed." 

A  few  moments  later  Mr.  Reardon  said  good-night  to  the  heiress, 
and  as  he  said  so  there  was  a  feeling  in  his  heart  that  was  dangerously 
on  the  verge  of  something  more  than  mere  admiration. 

When  he  reached  his  own  simple,  unattractive  room,  his  thoughts 
were  not  as  pleasing  as  he  could  wish.  How  few  things  he  had  that 
he  wanted,  and  within  forty-eight  hours  he  would  be  the  guest  at  the 
mansion  of  a  woman  that  had  everything.  What  a  contrast!  And 
why  that  contrast?  Life  is  certainly  strange,  he  thought,  when  sud 
denly  he  discovered  himself  on  the  brink  of  a  sigh.  But  he  refused  at 
once  to  enter  its  depths,  because  he  had  vowed  a  few  days  before  never 
to  feel  depressed  or  worried  again  in  his  life. 

He  retired  and  tried  to  sleep,  but  it  was  nearly  dawn  before  he 
succeeded.  And  when  he  woke  up  he  found  that  he  would  be  at  least 
two  hours  late  at  the  office.  This,  however,  did  not  disturb  him,  as 
he  had  never  been  late  before;  besides,  he  had  frequently  remained 
two  or  three  hours  after  the  time  to  close. 

On  his  way  to  the  busines  section  of  the  city,  he  found  it  diffi 
cult,  for  some  unknown  reason,  to  feel  cheerful.  There  seemed  to  be 
a  cloud  hanging  over  him,  or  something  in  the  air  that  was  bent  on 
impressing  gloom  upon  every  feeling  in  his  soul.  But  he  succeeded, 
by  the  force  of  his  will  and  the  constant  attention  to  his  recent  reso 
lution,  in  keeping  this  darkness  on  the  outside.  Nevertheless,  it  was 
there,  pressing  for  admission,  and  the  fact  did  not  please  him  in  the 
least. 

When  he  arrived  at  his  work  he  went  at  once  to  the  private  office 
of  Mr.  Spaulding,  so  as  to  give  an  excuse  for  his  tardiness,  but  to  his 
amazement  he  found  that  man  walking  the  floor  in  unspeakable  mental 
agony. 

"Don't  ask  me  anything,   don't  offer  any  sympathy  or  hope  or 


52 The   Will   and   The   Way 

consolation,"  Mr.  Spaulding  cried,  in  a  tone  of  anguish  and  bitterness. 
"The  bubble  has  burst  at  last.  I  tried  my  best  to  prevent  it,  but  in 
vain.  It  would  have  happened  anyway,  sooner  or  later;  it  was  an  end 
that  was  inevitable.  But  to  get  through  with  it — that  is  what  I — " 

Mr.  Reardon  was  actually  stunned  with  pained  astonishment, 
and  almost  stared  at  Mr.  Spaulding,  being  in  total  darkness  as  to  the 
real  meaning  of  the  situation. 

"You  knew  that  part  of  this  business  was  speculation,  did  you 
not?"  he  began  again,  as  he  stopped  for  a  moment  and  looked  Mr. 
Reardon  fiercely  in  the  eye. 

"Yes,  but— " 

"Don't  say  anything,"  interrupted  Mr.  Spaulding.  "There  is 

nothing  to  say.  I  have  lost  everything everything.  Part  of  my 

business  was  legitimate;  the  rest  was  questionable.  The  questionable 
won  the  day,  as  it  always  will,  just  as  surely  as  one  decayed  apple  will 
finally  spoil  all  the  others." 

"I  can  stand  it,"  he  continued,  in  a  half-defiant  tone.  "That's 

not  it — but — it's  Adeline that's  what  makes  me  feel — no,  I  can 

never  say  how  I  feel — but  what  will  Adeline  think — what  will  she  say 
— what  will  she  do if  1  could  only  spare  her  what — " 

"Oh,  but  the  misery  I  have  brought  upon  her,"  he  groaned. 
"Wat  will  life  be  to  her  now — her  future  as  black  as  the  blackest  night 
— but  I  knew  it  would  end  this  way — what  will  she  think  now — 

nothing  has  ever  disturbed  her  before but  now — it  is  different  now. 

She  has  lived  in  luxury  all  her  life — she  has  had  everything — what  will 
she  say  now  that  she  has  nothing — how  can  I  tell  her — where  can  I 
find  the  strength  to  do  it — I  could  do  anything  but  that — no,  I  can't 
wait — I  must  go  and  tell  her  now — but  the  suspense — .  Yes,  I  must 
go  to  Adeline  at  once — I  shall  be  back  shortly — but  what  will  she 
think — what  will  she  do — the  dark  night  1  have  given  to  you — Ade 
line how  can  1  ever  tell  you — how — " 

For  several  minutes  after  Mr.  Spaulding's  heart-rending  depar 
ture,  Mr.  Reardon  was  motionless  and  speechless;  even  his  mind  re 
fused  to  act.  During  the  past  few  days  he  had  frequently  asked,  'What 
is  coming  next?"  and  this  was  the  first  thought  that  aroused  his  mind 
now.  Then  his  mind  drifted  to  that  sweet,  innocent  girl,  and  what  she 
was  presently  to  learn.  What  would  she  think?  And  what  would  her 
future  be  now?  As  he  thought  of  it  he  felt  himself  going  farther 
and  farther  out  on  the  brink  of  the  dark  abyss  of  gloom,  but  before 
his  mind  could  take  this  bitter  descent,  he  audibly  declared  ,"No!" 
Whatever  happened  he  would  not  give  up  to  despair.  He  would  con 
quer  despair,  even  though  he  failed  in  all  else.  But  he  was  determined 
not  to  fail  in  anything.  If  he  could  only  give  Adeline  some  of  the 
strength  and  determination  he  was  now  beginning  to  feel.  But  pos 
sibly  she  would  have  no  need  of  assistance.  Could  that  be  true? 
Would  she  be  stronger  than  this,  even  this?  And  what  would  she  tell 
her  father?  She  would  tell  him  something.  What  would  it  be?  What 
would  he  not  give  could  he  know.  Yes,  and  a  strange  desire  to  know 
began  to  creep  over  him — a  desire  that  he  found  almost  impossible 


The   Will   and   The   Way  53 

to  control.     But  he  would  have  to  control  it  somehow,  and  he  went  to 
his  desk  to  see  what  he  could  do  to  occupy  his  mind. 

And  there  was  another  surprise — this  time  a  most  pleasant  sur 
prise — a  letter  from  Cyril  Janos.  He  opened  it  quickly  and  to  his 
supreme  delight  found  these  words:  "You  have  asked  me  much. 
Come  any  evening  after  tonight  and  I  will  tell  you  everything."  He 
clasped  the  letter  in  his  hand  as  if  it  were  some  long  lost  treasure  of 
priceless  value,  and  before  he  could  think,  he  spoke  aloud,  "What  is 
coming  next?" 


It  was  nearly  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning  when  Richard  Spauld- 
ing  came  home  to  tell  his  daughter  what  had  happened.  On  his  way 
to  the  house  he  had  worked  up  his  will  to  a  point  where  he  thought  he 
could  tell  her  everything  and  yet  be  calm.  He  had  also  framed  in  his 
mind  a  few  statements  of  hope  and  consolation  with  which  he  meant 
to  make  it  as  easy  for  Adeline  as  possible,  and  assure  her  that  he  could 
find  a  way  to  shield  her  from  personal  suffering  through  the  loss.  He 
clung  tenaciously  to  what  he  had  resolved  to  say,  and  felt  equal  to  the 
occasion  until  he  entered  the  door. 

But  when  he  saw  his  daughter,  so  radiantly  happy  and  so  sweetly 
contented  in  their  luxurious  and  delightful  home,  which  was  theirs  no 
more,  his  strength  failed  him.  There  was  no  real  strength  back  of  his 
determination  and  trumped-up  resolve;  it  was  only  superficial  will 
power,  stimulated  temporarily  with  animal  force,  and  it  did  not  stand 
the  test. 

As  he  entered,  and  beheld  at  a  glance  the  riches  and  glory  that 
were  passing,  and  thought  of  the  misery  and  want  that  seemed  to  follow 
at  his  very  heels,  his  mind  became  dazed  and  bewildered.  He  could 
scarcely  frame  an  intelligent  thought,  and  his  heart  sank  to  the  very 
lowest  depths  of  darkness  and  despair.  Without  speaking  a  single 
word,  he  literally  fell  into  a  chair  and  began  to  sob  aloud.  And  so 
deep  was  his  grief  that  it  was  some  time  before  he  became  conscious 
of  the  gentle  presence  of  his  Adeline,  as  she  was  patiently  waiting  to 
learn  the  trouble,  so  she  might  offer  peace  and  rest  with  her  soothing 
balm.  Finally  he  was  able  to  tell  her,  in  broken  sentences,  that  he 
had  lost  everything;  but  he  was  struck  absolutely  speechless  for  sev 
eral  minutes  when  this  mysterious  daughter  calmly  replied,  "No,  it  is 
not  the  truth." 

Presently,  he  declared,  almost  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  "But  it  is 
the  truth,  and  I  have  suffered  an  age  of  torment  coming  here  trying 
to  tell  you." 

"I  know  how  you  feel,"  she  replied,  sweetly,  as  she  seated  her 
self  on  the  arm  of  his  chair,  and  began  to  soothe  his  aching  head  with 
hands  that  could  almost  speak  every  word  in  the  language  of  love; 
"but  I  wish  to  say,"  she  added,  with  a  tone  that  seemed  to  ring  with 
authority,  "your  loss  is  insignificant  and  does  not  disturb  me  in  the 
least." 


54 The   Will   and   The   Way 

"Why,  what  do  you  mean?"  he  demanded,  his  soul  on  fire  with 
something  he  could  not  positively  understand. 

"Simply  this,  that  I  am  living  in  a  world  that  neither  poverty  nor 
misfortune  can  ever  touch." 

He  looked  at  her  in  a  sad,  bewildered  manner  that  was  pathetic 
in  the  extreme.  Had  she  already  lost  her  mind?  Yes,  he  had  feared 
this  from  the  very  moment  his  misfortune  was  discovered.  What  could 
he  say  now?  He  must  say  something,  and  he  began  to  try  to  think. 
But  his  efforts  were  momentarily  suspended,  for  she  again  began  to 
speak. 

"You  say  you  have  lost  everything.  I  say  you  have  not.  You 
still  have  yourself  and  all  that  that  term  may  imply.  You  still  have  the 
power  that  produced  what  you  once  possessed.  That  power  can  still 
continue  to  produce;  and  if  henceforth  employed  in  legitimate  channels 
only,  it  can  produce  far  more  than  you  ever  seemed  to  possess  before. 
However  strong  a  power  may  be  when  used  in  the  wrong,  it  becomes 
infinitely  stronger  when  used  in  the  right." 

She  paused  for  a  moment  to  note  the  effect  of  her  remarks,  but 
as  he  was  not  ready  to  reply,  she  calmly  continued. 

"When  there  is  a  break  in  the  reservoir  at  the  foot  of  the  moun 
tain,  the  rushing  stream  may  seem  to  indicate  that  all  supply  is  being 
lost.  But  when  we  turn  our  eyes  away  from  the  passing  calamity  and 
look  further  toward  the  source  of  supply,  we  change  our  minds.  Be 
yond  lie  the  mountain  peaks  of  perpetual  snow,  forever  environed  in 
the  warmth  of  the  sun.  Simply  repair  the  break,  and  make  the  entire 
wall  stronger  than  ever  before.  It  will  soon  be  refilled,  even  to  over 
flowing." 

"Adeline,  I  do  not  understand  you  in  the  least;  explain  yourself. 
I  am  almost  frightened  at  your  conduct.  I  expected  you  to  break  down 
completely,  but  instead  you  act  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  Such 
conduct  is  not  normal  for  a  woman  under  the  circumstances.  There 
must  be  something  wrong." 

"Calm  your  fear,  father,"  she  said,  and  she  said  it  in  a  way 
that  made  her  countenance  literally  radiate  with  loving  kindness  and 
good  sense.  And  for  a  moment  he  seemed  to  try  to  do  what  she 
said.  Seeing  this,  she  gently  resumed. 

"There  is  nothing  wrong  with  me  whatever.  It  is  natural  for 
the  weak  to  fall  down  when  threatened  with  adversity.  It  is  natural 
for  the  strong  to  remain  untouched  and  undisturbed  in  the  midst  of 
every  adversity." 

To  this  he  could  not  reply,  and  she  presently  continued,  giving 
marked  emphasis  to  every  word. 

"I  am  stronger  than  anything  that  can  ever  come  into  my  life. 
And  why  should  I  not  be?  I  am  not  a  thing;  nor  am  I  a  group  of 
things;  I  am  a  human  being,  a  living  soul." 

"Adeline,"  he  implored,  tearfully,  "how  can  you  be  so  uncon 
cerned  when  you  know  we  are  penniless?" 

"I  am  not  unconcerned,"  she  said;  and  as  he  looked  into  the 
fathomless  depths  of  her  beautiful  eyes,  he  saw  she  spoke  the  truth. 


Trie   Will    and   The   Way  55 

"I  am  as  tender  as  you  are,"  she  continued,  "and  feel  far  more  deeply; 
but  in  my  world  there  is  always  peace,  regardless  of  the  storms  that 
may  rage  about  me." 

"That  does  not  alter  the  fact  that  we  are  penniless,"  he  replied, 
in  a  tone  that  was  almost  sarcastic. 

But  she  paid  no  attention  to  the  tone  of  his  voice.  She  simply 
rose  to  her  feet  and,  giving  full  expression  to  all  that  was  tender  and 
beautiful  and  strong  in  her  nature,  her  personality  assumed  an  atti 
tude  that  could  have  inspired  any  mind  to  leave  the  depths  of  despair 
forever.  To  look  at  her,  and  then  think  of  weakness  or  failure,  was 
to  forget  that  weakness  or  failure  could  ever  be.  And  the  father 
did  look  at  this  wonderful  daughter  with  an  interest  that  he  had  never 
known  before.  For  a  moment  there  was  light  in  his  countenance. 
Noting  this,  she  gently,  but  firmly  resumed. 

"He  who  can  be  calm,  serene  and  undisturbed  when  everything 
has  been  taken  away,  has  the  power  to  regain  everything  that  has 
been  lost." 

As  these  words  were  spoken  the  secret  of  her  strength  and  faith 
began  to  dawn  upon  his  bewildered  mind.  No,  she  had  not  lost  her 
mind.  Instead,  she  had  found  the  full  measure  of  her  mind.  So 
much  was  clear.  But  what  could  this  fact  do  for  him?  Nothing,  it 
seemed,  for  when  he  thought  of  himself,  his  future  became  as  dark 
as  the  blackets  night.  At  last  he  ventured  to  ask,  "What  can  I  do, 
Adeline?  I  came  home  to  give  you  strength  and  consolation,  but 
the  tables  have  turned.  I  am  the  helpless  child.  You  are  the  reign 
ing  queen  of  this  godless  country  into  which  we  have  suddenly  en 
tered." 

"Now  you  can  begin  again  and  begin  right.  You  can  rebuild 
upon  a  firm  foundation,  and  you  shall  regain  everything." 

These  last  words  seemed  to  ring  with  a  power  that  was  more 
than  human,  and  somehow  he  could  feel  these  words  becoming  a 
part  of  himself.  You  shall  regain  everything,  he  found  himself  re 
peating  again  and  again  in  his  own  soul,  until  the  conviction  became 
so  deep  that  nothing  seemed  more  certain  in  his  life.  But  his  senses 
were  not  convinced,  and  turning  to  Adeline,  who  had  taken  a  chair 
near  the  other  end  of  the  room,  he  anxiously  asked,  "How  do  you 
know  that  everything  will  be  regained?" 

"Because  it  is  in  you.  Now  you  will  have  the  opportunity  to 
prove  what  the  real  Richard  Spaulding  can  do.  What  has  just  hap 
pened  is  the  best  that  could  have  happened.  The  sooner  the  wrong 
is  swept  away  the  better.  Now  you  are  free  to  make  the  best  of  your 
self.  Now  you  can  go  and  utilize  all  the  riches  that  your  nature  may 
contain.  And  these  riches  still  remain.  Therefore,  I  say,  rejoice. 
So  long  as  you  still  have  the  source  of  supply,  it  matters  not  if  you 
lose  some  of  it  today;  you  can  go  back  for  more  tomorrow." 

"Your  views  are  undoubtedly  correct,  Adeline,  and  your  words, 
your  attitude,  your  countenance — everything  about  you  seems  to  give" 
me  peace  and  courage;  but  what  are  we  going  to  do?  We  have 


56 The  Will   and   The  Way 

nothing,  absolutely  nothing,  and  we  have  to  leave  this  beautiful  home 
at  once." 

The  thought  of  being  compelled  to  take  his  daughter  away  from 
all  comforts  and  luxuries  into — he  knew  not  what,  brought  back  the 
darkness  and  distress  again  to  his  mind;  and  he  found  it  impossible 
to  suppress  his  tears.  But  Adeline,  without  showing  the  slightest 
trace  of  regret,  replied  in  her  usual  firm  and  gentle  manner. 

"This  home  is  beautiful.  That  is  true.  But  I  am  living  in  a 
mansion  that  is  ten  thousand  times  more  beautiful.  It  is  a  home 
wherein  there  is  always  peace  and  joy;  and  I  want  you,  father,  to 
come  to  that  home  with  me  now." 

"Oh,  yes;  I  will  try  to  go  anywhere  with  you  in  your  imagina 
tion;  but  please  be  sensible  when  you  deal  with  sensible  facts.  We 
are  face  to  face  with  a  practical  problem.  I  tell  you  we  have  to  leave 
this  house." 

"When  we  do  we  will  go  to  one  that  is  better." 

"Adeline,  you  are  certainly  beyond  my  comprehension.  1  am 
at  a  loss  to  know  whether  to  be  provoked  or  inspired  by  what  you 
say.  You  may  expect  to  go  to  a  better  place  than  this,  but  how  are 
you  going  to  do  it?  Neither  of  us  has  a  penny." 

"When  the  mind  falls  down,  everything  falls  down.  When  the 
mind  goes  wrong,  everything  goes  wrong.  But  when  the  mind  goes 
right,  and  continues  to  move  forward,  toward  the  better,  everything 
will  come  right,  and  that  which  is  better  will  surely  be  realized." 

"Adeline,  you  are  simply  philosophizing;  and  I  don't  blame 
you  for  catching  at  every  straw  that  may  be  near;  but,  after  all,  your 
philosophy,  when  face  to  face  with  grim  facts,  will  prove  to  be  noth 
ing  more  but  a  pretty  piece  of  fancy." 

"You  may  call  it  so,  but  it  gives  me  serenity  and  happiness; 
that  is  more  than  you  have  secured  from  your  very  substantial  facts." 

"It  is  the  bitter  truth,  Adeline;  nevertheless,  pretty  dreams  do 
not  build  mansions;  nor  do  they  provide  food  and  attire." 

"On  the  contrary,  everything  that  is  worth  while  in  this  world 
is  linked  to  a  dream.  No  man  ever  accomplished  anything  without 
having  the  product  of  a  dream  with  which  to  work." 

"True  enough,  I  admit.  But  what  comfort  can  such  thought 
give  to  a  man  when  he  has  lost  his  money,  lost  his  friends,  lost  every 
thing,  and  been  humbled  to  the  very  lowest  place  in  life?" 

"You  have  not  been  humbled,  father;  you  are  not  stepping 
down;  you  have  simply  been  given  a  real  opportunity  to  step  higher 
up.  You  know  when  there  is  something  in  a  man,  failure  will  in 
variably  make  him  great.  And  there  is  something  in  you.  Before 
you  were  held  up  by  the  mere  show  and  glamour  of  things;  now  you 
will  be  held  up  by  the  power  of  your  own  manhood,  the  supremacy 
of  your  own  unconquered  soul.  And  as  for  friends,  please  remember 
that  when  the  lesser  departs,  the  greater  comes  in.  Now  we  shall 
have  real  friends — friends  that  love  us  for  what  we  are,  instead  of 
pretended  friends,  that  love  us  for  what  we  possess.  And  what  a 


The  Will   and  The  Way 57 

difference  it  will  be.      Oh,   how  I  rejoice  at  the  thought  of  that  dif 
ference." 

For  a  few  moments  Mr.  Spaulding  was  silent.  He  realized  that 
his  daughter  was  too  strong  to  be  moved  by  what  had  happened, 
and  he  was  beginning  to  understand  what  such  strength  would  mean 
to  him  during  the  dark  days  that  were  at  hand.  There  was  a  silver 
lining  to  the  cloud,  but  the  cloud  was  there.  Would  her  strength  help 
him  to  remove  the  cloud,  or  would  her  attitude  and  soothing  presence 
only  make  poverty  a  little  easier  to  bear?  Hoping  she  might  give 
him  more  light  on  this  subject  he  again  began  to  speak. 

"My  own  Adeline,  you  are  a  marvel;  nothing  less.  Tell  me, 
where  did  you  get  your  wisdom,  your  unbounded  spiritual  strength? 
You  speak  as  if  some  supreme  power  had  taken  possession  of  your 
soul.  But  will  your  strength  hold  out  to  the  end?" 

"It  cannot  possibly  fail,"  she  replied,  her  voice  again  ringing 
with  authority.  And  as  she  rose  to  her  feet  and  walked  to  another 
part  of  the  room,  every  movement  of  her  body  seemed  to  be  alive 
with  that  same  unfailing  power.  "The  strength  that  is  within  me," 
she  continued,  "is  greater  than  any  misfortune,  greater  than  any  ca 
lamity  that  can  ever  befall  me.  And  through  that  strength  I  shall 
bear  everything  without  a  murmur;  through  that  strength  I  shall  con 
quer  everything  and  gain  everything  that  the  fullness  of  my  life  may 
require." 

"You  undoubtedly  will,  Adeline.  You  are  not  a  weak  woman. 
You  are  the  most  tender,  the  most  beautiful  and  the  most  loving 
woman  that  ever  lived;  that  I  always  knew;  and  today  I  have  dis 
covered  that  you  are  also  a  spiritual  giant.  Such  a  woman  will  surely 
fare  well;  to  such  a  woman  the  world  will  surely  be  kind.  But  how 
different  it  will  be  with  me.  There  are  no  opportunities  for  me  any 
more,  and  my  best  days  are  gone." 

"On  the  contrary,  your  best  days  are  yet  to  come." 

"Absurd,  child!  Absurd!  I  am  past  fifty;  my  youth  is  gone  and 
my  vigor  is  waning.  What  do  you  mean  by  such  statements?  Be 
sensible,  please,  be  sensible." 

"That  is  precisely  what  I  am  trying  to  be.  By  being  sensible  I 
am  calm  and  composed  at  this  moment  instead  of  hysterical.  And 
in  that  respect  I  shall  continue  as  I  have  begun;  I  shall  not  become  a 
burden  to  you,  but  rather  a  help  and  even  an  inspiration,  if  you  so 
desire.  However,  permit  me  to  repeat,  that  your  best  days  are  in 
the  future.  Nature  will  give  you  more  vigor  and  virility  during  the 
next  fifty  years  than  you  ever  had  during  the  past  fifty,  if  you  wish 
her  to  do  so.  And  the  world  is  ever  in  search  of  the  great  and  the 
useful.  You  can  be  both  if  you  will." 

"I  fail  to  understand  you,  Adeline;  though  I  wish  I  could  believe 
as  you  do;  somehow  I  think  I  can  see  reality  back  of  your  dreams 
and  your  fancy;  there  seems  to  be  something  there  that  is  tangible." 

"Those  things  in  life  that  seem  to  be  the  most  unreal  are  after 
all  the  only  things  that  are  secure  when  the  so-called  real  things  are" 
taken  away." 


58 The  Will   and   The  Way 

"True  again.  I  admit  it.  Your  philosophy  is  sound,  Adeline. 
I  believe  what  you  say.  I  am  beginning  to  understand.  Better  days 
will  come.  But  in  the  meantime  how  are  we  to  be  provided  for?  I 
see  no  way.  No  one  will  trust  me  now.  No  one  will  care  to  have 
anything  to  do  with  me.  1  have  not  played  fair  with  the  world.  I 
can  repent  and  mend  my  ways,  but  time  will  be  needed  to  prove  that 
I  have  actually  changed.  And  during  that  time  I  see  nothing  but 
darkness  in  my  path." 

"We  shall  be  provided  for,"  she  declared,  in  a  tone  that  would 
have  inspired  conviction  anywhere  in  the  world.  "Something  will 
happen,"  she  continued.  "When  the  wrongs  of  a  man's  life  come 
back  to  him,  the  good  that  he  has  done  will  come  also.  All  is  not 
darkness  and  distress  before  us.  We  shall  have  all  that  we  need. 
That  is  my  faith.  Upon  that  rock  I  stand,  and  I  refuse  to  move  a 
thousandth  part  of  an  inch,  come  whatever  may." 

With  these  last  words  all  the  black  clouds  in  her  father's  mind 
were  dispersed  completely.  "Wonderful  Adeline,"  he  thought  to 
himself,  too  deeply  moved  to  speak.  What  an  inspiration  she  was 
as  she  stood  before  him,  her  personality  seemingly  charged  with  un 
conquerable  power,  her  face  radiant  with  a  strength  that  was  kind 
ness,  tenderness,  love  and  faith,  all  most  beautifully  blended  into  one. 
She  seemed  to  feel  the  pain  of  everything  that  had  occurred,  and 
yet  she  was  far  stronger  than  what  she  felt.  She  was  in  the  midst  of 
storms,  distress  and  blackness,  but  not  an  atom  in  her  being  was  dis 
turbed  in  the  least.  And  gradually  the  tender  presence  of  her  mar 
velous  strength  was  healing  her  father's  heart,  while  the  sublime 
serenity  of  her  words  and  actions  was  giving  peace  to  his  troubled 
mind. 

To  her  father's  awakened  soul  she  was  now  nothing  less  than  a 
reigning  goddess,  holding  in  her  right  hand  the  elements  of  power 
and  in  her  left  the  elements  of  love,  while  the  glory  of  her  wisdom 
beamed  through  her  countenance  as  the  radiant  light  of  the  sun. 
Slowly  he  realized  the  lofty  position  she  had  taken  in  this  unfortunate 
event.  He  had  been  crushed  with  the  crash  of  things;  she  had  be 
come  stronger  in  the  midst  of  it  all  and  was  towering  above  the  con 
fusion  of  it  all,  seemingly  ready  at  any  time  to  command  every  cir 
cumstance  to  fall  at  her  feet  and  obey. 

"Adeline,"  he  said,  with  a  voice  that  was  calm  and  a  tone  that 
had  the  ring  of  strength  reborn,  "I  will  do  as  you  say." 

She  had  conquered.  Her  heart  was  full,  and  he  thought  he  no 
ticed  her  eyes  becoming  moist.  But  that  was  pleasing  rather  than 
otherwise,  for  though  she  was  a  spiritual  giant,  it  was  comforting  to 
know  that  she  was  also  a  sweet  and  tender  woman.  What  if  he  had 
lost  everything?  He  still  had  Adeline.  Could  anything  in  the  world 
give  greater  joy?  And  then  she  had  invited  him  to  come  and  live 
in  her  world — a  world  wherein  there  was  always  peace  and  joy.  Yes, 
he  would  go — go  at  once,  for  now  he  knew  what  that  was,  and  he 
was  beginning  to  see  that  to  live  in  such  a  place  was  worth  infinitely 
more  than  all  the  wealth  in  the  world.  But  Adeline  had  declared 


The   Will   and   The   Way  59 

that  he  would  regain  everything,  and  he  believed  she  knew  whereof 
she  spoke.  At  any  rate  he  would  call  upon  nature  to  give  him  back 
his  virility,  his  ambition  and  his  youth,  and  begin  again.  He  would 
build  anew,  and  as  he  thought  of  the  possibilities  that  such  a  course 
might  present,  he  began  to  feel  an  inner  joy  that  he  had  never  known 
before.  He  imagined  it  was  the  joy  of  the  conqueror,  the  feeling 
that  comes  to  him  who  wins  because  he  deserves  to  win.  Yes,  such 
was  the  future  that  he  could  now  discern  before  him.  It  was  a  future 
in  which  the  real  Richard  Spaulding  would  be  all  that  there  possibly 
was  in  him  to  be.  And  how  interesting  it  would  be  to  live  to  see  the 
development  of  such  a  future. 

Suddenly  he  rose  to  his  feet  a  new  man.  His  face  was  beaming 
with  light  and  joy  and  his  entire  personality  was  erect  with  a  power 
that  knows  no  kinship  with  fail.  Giving  Adeline  the  most  affectionate 
good-by  he  had  ever  given  her  in  his  life,  he  left  the  house  to  begin 
at  once  the  building  of  this  new  and  brilliant  future. 


XL 

When  Richard  Spaulding  returned  to  his  office  he  found  Mr. 
Whiting  there  waiting. 

"I  came  to  congratulate  you,"  Mr.  Whiting  began;  "you  are  now 
free  from  a  burden  that  no  man,  to  be  true  to  himself,  can  afford  to 
bear;  and  you  are  face  to  face  with  the  greatest  opportunity  of  your 
life.  I  consider  this  the  most  successful  failure  I  ever  knew.  I  have 
special  reasons  for  thinking  so,  and  ere  many  weeks  you  will  fully 
concur  with  my  conclusions." 

"I  know  it,"  Mr.  Spaulding  replied,  with  enthusiasm.  "I  feel  like 
shouting  for  joy.  I  have  lost  everything,  but  I  have  found  myself. 
Mr.  Whiting,  if  you  knew  what  happened  at  my  home  this  morning 
you  would  cry  for  joy.  But  we  shall  not  speak  of  it  now.  You  wish 
to  see  me  on  some  personal  matter,  I  judge,  so  please  come  in." 

The  two  men  entered  the  private  office,  where  they  remained 
for  about  thirty  minutes.  When  they  returned,  Melville  Reardon 
thought  they  looked  even  happier  than  before,  and  he  was  becoming 
anxious  to  know  what  so  much  satisfaction  and  joy  might  mean  in 
the  face  of  such  a  serious  disaster.  But  his  anxiety  was  only  partly 
satisfied,  as  Mr.  Spaulding  seemed  too  busy  to  talk  during  the  rest 
of  the  afternoon,  and  was  therefore  very  brief  in  his  orders  and  ex 
planations.  When  they  were  getting  ready  to  leave,  however,  Mr. 
Rardon  was  told  to  come  back  for  another  week  to  help  close  up  the 
business,  and  he  was  also  promised  some  interesting  information  be 
fore  their  last  week  together  was  at  an  end. 

Returning  to  his  own  simple  abode,  Mr.  Reardon  did  not  know 
exactly  how  to  feel.  He  was  in  the  midst  of  one  of  those  moments 
when  it  hardly  seems  right  to  be  happy,  yet  wholly  wrong  to  be  sad. 
He  had  much  to  think  about,  and  the  most  important,  for  the  time 
being,  was  the  fact  that  within  twenty-four  hours  he  would  be  a  most 
welcome  guest  at  the  luxurious  home  of  Lillian  Strong. 


60  The  Will  and  The  Way 

Sunday  morning  arrived  at  last,  and  finally  Sunday  night.  It 
was  an  evening  that  Miss  Strong  had  been  looking  forward  to  with 
the  keenest  delight,  and  when  Melville  Reardon  also  arrived  she  was 
happy  indeed. 

"Did  you  go  to  church  today?"  she  asked,  as  the  two  were 
seated  on  the  lawn,  surrounded  with  flowers  and  trees  and  a  most 
delightfully  fragrant  atmosphere. 

"No,  I  did  not,"  he  replied,  quietly,  wondering  why  she  should 
open  the  conversation  with  such  a  question. 

"Neither  did  I,"  she  said,  with  a  tone  of  satisfaction,  evidently 
pleased  to  learn  that  there  would  be  no  religious  differences  between 
them.  "In  fact,  1  seldom  go,"  she  continued,  "especially  in  mid 
summer." 

"That  is  not  the  reason  why  I  was  not  in  church  today." 
"No?      You  have   other  reasons.       Possibly  you   are   not   religious. 
Though  we  shall  not  be  any  the  less  friendly  on  that  account,  as  some 
of  the  truest  and  best  people  I  know  care  nothing  about  religion  what 
ever." 

"I  beg  to  differ  with  you  there,  Miss  Strong.  We  are  all  religious, 
at  least  to  some  degree.  And  the  better  and  truer  we  become,  the 
more  religious  we  become." 

"I  hardly  understand  you,  Mr.  Reardon.  Will  you  tell  me  what 
you  mean  by  being  religious?" 

"My  religion  is  to  do  the  best  I  know  in  this  world  today.  But 
to  do  my  best  I  must  make  the  best  use  of  everything  that  is  within 
me.  And  the  term  'everything*  covers  not  only  the  powers  of  person 
ality,  but  also  the  finer  elements  of  mind  and  soul." 

"Then  with  you  religion  is  not  a  matter  of  creed  or  doctrine." 

"Not  in  the  least.  Religion  is  not  to  believe  what  theologians 
think  about  God,  but  to  always  do  the  will  of  God." 

"I  like  that.  But  will  you  tell  me  what  you  mean  by  the  will  of 
God?" 

"My  simplest  definition  is  this:  To  do  my  best  under  every  cir 
cumstance,  and  to  add  perpetually  to  the  welfare  and  happiness  of 
all,  including  myself.  That,  according  to  my  mind,  is  what  God  wants 
us  to  do." 

"Beautiful!  Beautiful,  indeed  I  And  I  can  readily  understand 
that  from  your  point  of  view  we  could  not  be  human  unless  we  were 
religious." 

"That  is  certainly  true.  But  it  is  also  true  that  we  become  more 
beautifully  human  as  the  finer  elements  of  mind  and  soul  become 
more  active.  We  also  become  correspondingly  more  worthy,  more 
useful  and  more  happy." 

"I  believe  that,  Mr.  Reardon.  It  is  these  finer  elements  that 
you  speak  of  that  make  life  worth  while.  And  I  think  I  can  see  how 
life  could  be  made  gorgeously  beautiful  and  supremely  happy  if  we 
knew  more  about  these  richer  kingdoms  of  mind  and  soul." 

"We  are  in  perfect  harmony  on  that  great  subject,  Miss  Strong. 
And  to  know  that  we  are  makes  me  happy,  indeed." 


The  Will   and   The   Way  61 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Reardon.  I  appreciate  these  last  words  more 
than  I  can  say.  But  you  did  not  tell  me  why  you  were  not  in  church 
today." 

"When  I  go  to  church  I  do  not  wish  to  be  told  that  I  am  sinful 
and  weak.  I  know  that  before.  I  do  not  wish  to  be  told  what  to 
believe.  The  beliefs  of  one  age  are  the  heresies  of  the  next,  and  vice 
versa.  I  wish  to  be  told  what  I  am,  not  in  my  weakness,  but  in  my 
strength.  I  wish  to  be  told,  not  what  I  have  failed  to  do,  but  what 
is  in  me  to  do.  I  want  to  listen  to  something  that  can  touch  the  soul, 
something  that  can  carry  my  spirit  to  empyrean  heights  and  reveal 
to  my  vision  the  beauty  and  splendor  of  existence  sublime." 

Lillian  was  silent,  evidently  touched  by  the  beauty  and  eloquence 
of  his  sentiments,  and  realizing  that  she  was  in  the  presence,  not  of 
a  mere  man,  but  of  a  man  who  had  visions — a  man  who  had  felt  the 
power  of  that  something  that  makes  humanity  great — a  man  within 
whose  restless  soul  the  elements  of  nature  were  mysteriously  at  work 
preparing  for  some  rare  and  wonderful  career. 

Noting  her  silence  and  the  marked  attention  of  her  attitude,  he 
continued  to  give  the  reason  she  had  asked  for. 

"If  I  am  to  be  true  to  myself,  I  must  live,  not  simply  in  my  body 
and  in  parts  of  my  mind;  I  must  live  in  all  the  kingdoms  of  my  mind 
and  in  all  the  kingdoms  of  my  soul  as  well.  But  to  train  myself  to 
live  truly  in  those  other  kingdoms,  or  what  we  may  term  the  upper 
story  of  this  building  we  call  man,  I  must  go  there  frequently.  I  must 
needs  be  lifted  up,  so  to  speak,  and  Sunday  morning  is  the  time  most 
suited  for  that  sublime  experience.  How  I  wish  that  some  real  prophet 
would  arise  in  the  world — someone  who  could  tell  us  the  truth  about 
these  things — someone  who  could  lead  us  out  of  the  Babel  of  mere 
words  and  the  warfare  of  useless  doctrines  into  that  lofty  realm  of 
peace  and  joy  where  we  all  shall  find  life — into  that  secret  place  in 

the  soul  from  whence  comes  everything  that  is  worthy  and  noble  in 

11 
man. 

"Your  sentiments  are  most  beautiful,"  declared  Lillian,  as  she 
looked  up  at  him  in  a  manner  that  was  closely  akin  to  worship.  "And 
as  for  the  prophet  you  speak  of,"  she  continued,  her  face  lit  up  with 
the  glory  of  those  transcendent  thoughts  his  words  had  engendered 
in  her  mind,  "I  am  absolutely  certain  I  am  in  his  presence  now." 

"No,"  he  replied,  half  sadly,  "that  is  not  my  work.  I  am  made 
for  something  else  and  I  have  other  ambitions." 

"Yes,"  she  exclaimed,  with  eagerness.  "And  you  were  to  tell 
me  tonight  about  those  ambitions." 

"That  is  true.  But  there  are  certain  reasons  why  I  could  not  tell 
you  all  tonight.  Though  I  shall  tell  you  everything  except  the  real 
nature  of  the  ambition  itself.  I  may  tell  you  that  later;  that  is,  if 
you  decide  that  you  wish  me  to  do  so." 

"Go  on,  Mr.  Reardon,  please  go  on.  Tell  me  all  you  can.  I 
shall  be  profoundly  interested,  I  know." 

Her  wish  was  granted.  He  told  her  everything  that  he  had" 
passed  through  in  connection  with  his  two  leading  ambitions,  just  as 


62 The  Will   and   The  Way 

he  told  Cyril  Janos  at  his  first  meeting  with  that  remarkable  man. 
Then  he  told  her  what  that  masterful  scientist  had  advised  him  to 
do;  and,  lastly,  he  explained  to  her  his  present  position.  In  another 
week  he  would  be  without  work,  and  the  problem  was  what  to  do. 
Should  he  seek  another  position,  or  should  he  try  once  more  to  carry 
out  his  lifelong  dream?  He  almost  felt  as  if  he  could  wait  no  longer. 
Everything  within  him  was  urging  him  with  more  and  more  persist 
ence  to  make  a  bold  dash  at  once  for  the  goal  he  had  in  view,  but 
as  yet  the  way  was  anything  but  clear. 

"There  is  a  way,"  she  whispered  softly,  as  she  looked  into  his 
eyes  with  appealing  tenderness.  "Your  ambitions  can  be  realized, 
Mr.  Reardon.  It  is  perfectly  clear  to  me  how  it  can  be  done,  and 
you  can  begin  at  once  to  work  out  your  great  career." 

"You  are  very  kind,  Miss  Strong,  for  taking  such  an  interest  in 
my  life  and  my  future,  and  some  day  I  hope  you  will  tell  me  what 
that  way  might  be." 

"Yes,  I  will  tell  you  whenever  you  wish,"  she  replied,  in  a  low 
tone,  her  voice  trembling  a  trifle.  "And  I  shall  appreciate  the  privi 
lege  most  highly,"  she  added,  with  emphasis.  "Though  you  will 
promise  me,  will  you  not,  to  make  no  final  plans  until  you  have  con 
sidered  my  way?" 

"I  promise,"  he  said,  as  he  rose  to  take  his  departure.  And 
after  a  few  moments  of  most  friendly  leave-taking,  he  left  the  luxury 
and  delight  of  this  most  beautiful  home  to  again  re-enter  his  own 
uninviting  abode.  He  always  found  it  difficult  to  keep  up  his  spirits 
when  he  compared  his  own  place  of  shelter,  for  that  was  all  it  was, 
with  the  luxury  that  others  with  less  ability  enjoyed.  But  on  this 
particular  night  he  felt  that  he  had  not  the  right  to  even  express  the 
slightest  dissatisfaction  with  his  accommodations,  for  he  knew  there 
was  a  palace  waiting  to  receive  him,  if  he  would  only  utter  a  certain 
word  at  a  certain  time. 

When  Monday  morning  came,  and  he  realized  that  it  was  to  be 
his  last  week  with  Mr.  Spaulding,  he  found  it  necessary  to  use  all 
the  power  of  will  in  his  possession  to  maintain  a  cheerful  attitude. 
But  as  the  day  wore  on  he  was  aided  greatly  in  these  efforts  by  the 
way  Mr.  Spaulding  faced  the  situation.  That  man  went  about  the 
closing  up  of  his  ill-fated  business  with  never  an  expression  of  regret, 
neither  in  speech  nor  in  outward  demeanor.  He  acted  as  if  he  were 
simply  getting  rid  of  mere  trash,  and  seemed  supremely  happy  over 
the  prospects  of  beginning  at  the  bottom  once  more. 

To  Mr.  Reardon  the  week  passed  somewhat  slowly,  and  he  was 
glad  beyond  words  when  Saturday  finally  arrived.  What  to  do  next, 
however,  was  the  problem,  and  the  more  he  thought  of  it  the  more 
confused  he  seemed  to  become. 

To  find  moments  of  relief  from  his  mental  distress  he  called 
frequently  on  Miss  Cameron  during  the  four  weeks  that  followed. 
And  the  relief  he  sought  was  always  forthcoming  in  her  presence. 
She  was  invariably  bright  and  happy,  and  he  forgot  the  more  serious 
things  of  life  in  her  light-hearted  conversation.  Gradually  he  came 


The  Will   and   The   Way  63 

to  think  more  and  more  that  this  girl  could  make  him  happy,  and  he 
gave  her  to  understand  in  various  ways  that  his  visits  were  more  than 
friendly  calls. 

He  received  several  invitations  to  the  home  of  Mrs.  Arnold  dur 
ing  the  same  period,  which  he  accepted  gladly.  It  was  Mrs.  Arnold's 
purpose,  in  extending  these  invitations,  to  impress  upon  his  mind  that 
Miss  Cameron  was  the  girl  he  needed.  Though  he  did  not  discover 
this  purpose  until  later.  But  she  partly  succeeded,  and  he  soon  made 
up  his  mind  to  declare  his  love  for  the  girl  with  the  golden  hair. 

The  following  Sunday  he  decided  to  carry  out  these  intentions, 
but  on  his  way  to  the  home  of  his  chosen  love  he  met  Miss  Strong. 
This  made  him  hesitate.  During  the  evening,  however,  he  made 
several  attempts  to  tell  Miss  Cameron  that  he  loved  her,  for  she  cer 
tainly  seemed  sweeter  than  ever.  But  whenever  he  tried  to  tell  her 
the  picture  of  Miss  Strong  came  up  in  his  mind.  What  could  that 
mean?  he  wondered.  Then  he  remembered  that  he  had  to  run  for 
the  car  that  he  took  in  coming  that  evening,  an  act  that  he  had  never 
committed  on  Sunday  before.  But  somehow  he  "wanted"  that  par 
ticular  car,  though  he  saw  another  coming  less  than  a  block  away. 

He  went  home  without  saying  anything  about  love.  A  few  days 
later  he  went  to  see  Miss  Cameron  again,  and  he  was  determined  to 
declare  his  love,  but  as  he  alighted  from  the  car  Miss  Strong  passed 
in  her  carriage.  The  same  incident,  under  slightly  modified  circum 
stances,  occurred  again  near  the  close  of  the  week,  and  Mr.  Reardon 
concluded  that  something  was  wrong.  Why  did  something  mys 
terious  always  come  in  his  way  whenever  he  undertook  to  secure  a 
wife?  Was  this  another  instance  where  his  subconscious  mind  was 
"interfering"  so  as  to  prevent  an  action  that  did  not  correspond  with 
his  two  leading  ambitions?  This  throught  brought  him  to  his  senses, 
and  he  could  see  very  clearly  once  more  than  Miss  Cameron  did  not 
resemble  the  "one  woman  of  his  dreams"  in  a  single  respect. 

In  the  meantime  he  was  in  constant  search  of  a  position,  but 
could  find  nothing  that  was  satisfactory.  At  times  he  was  almost  dis 
couraged,  and  frequently  resolved  to  go  and  see  Cyril  Janos,  a  privi 
lege  he  had  not  taken  advantage  of  recently.  And  the  reason  was  he 
felt  he  had  not  made  the  proper  use  of  the  information  already  re 
ceived.  He  still  permitted  himself  to  be  drawn  in  every  direction, 
and  the  mental  part  of  himself  still  seemed  to  be  twisted  entirely  out 
of  normal  shape.  If  he  could  only  turn  all  the  powers  of  his  being 
upon  the  goal  he  desired  to  reach,  a  change  for  the  better  might 
come  speedily,  but  this  was  something  he  had  not  accomplished  as 
yet.  There  was  no  reason,  however,  why  this  might  not  be  accom 
plished  at  once.  He  knew  how,  and  had  both  the  force  of  character 
and  the  will.  Then  he  would  surely  find  a  way  to  begin  the  real  work 
of  his  life. 

But   there   already  was   a   way.      He   could   marry    Miss   Strong. 
He  knew  that  was  the   "way"   she  had  reference  to,   and   it  certainly, 
would  solve  his  problems.      While  he  was  working  out  the  plans  of 
his  great  ambition  he  would  not  have  to  earn  a  living  if  he  had  Lillian 


64 The  Will   and   The  Way 

for  a  wife.  Possibly  that  was  the  answer  to  his  prayers.  No,  hardly; 
for  she  did  not  resemble  "the  woman."  True,  he  was  very  much  at 
tracted  to  Lillian  mentally,  but  he  was  not  attracted  to  her  person 
ality;  and  for  some  reason,  personal  attraction  seemed  the  most  de 
sirable. 

These  were  his  thoughts,  and  the  more  he  entertained  these 
thoughts  the  darker  his  mind  became.  Finally,  after  four  weeks  of 
separation  from  his  real  friends,  another  ray  of  light  came  into  his 
life,  and  a  bright,  strong  ray  it  proved  to  be.  He  received  a  letter 
from  Mrs.  Whiting,  and  an  invitation  to  come  to  a  special  gathering 
at  her  home  the  Thursday  night  following.  "All  the  select  souls 
will  be  there,"  the  letter  went  on  to  say.  "Each  one  present  will  be 
expected  to  ask  some  momentous  question,  and  Cyril  Janos  will  re- 
ply." 

Now  there  was  something  to  look  forward  to,  and  his  heart 
danced  with  joy.  Noting  the  address,  he  observed  that  it  was  the 
house  formerly  occupied  by  Mr.  Spaulding  and  the  fairest  of  daugh 
ters,  Adeline. 


XII. 

The  suspense  of  the  intervening  days  had  finally  come  to  an  end 
and  Melville  Reardon  found  himself  in  the  former  home  of  Mr. 
Spaulding,  ready  to  appropriate  every  word  that  might  be  uttered 
that  evening — an  evening  that  was  destined  to  become  the  parting 
of  the  ways  to  everyone  present.  To  add  to  his  supreme  delight, 
he  observed  that  he  was  in  the  company  of  all  the  choice  spirits  he 
admired  so  much,  and  his  soul  was  resting  in  that  realm  of  supreme 
content  that  only  those  can  know  who  have  been  where  all  are  friends. 

He  soon  learned  that  Mr.  Whiting  had  purchased  the  home  of 
Mr.  Spaulding  and  that  Adeline  and  her  father  had  been  invited  to 
remain  as  honored  guests  for  an  indefinite  period.  He  also  learned 
that  Mr.  Spaulding  had  some  great  problem  that  he  wished  to  work 
out  and  that  Cyril  Janos  had  been  invited  to  turn  the  light  of  his 
practical  philosophy  upon  the  subject. 

The  coming  of  this  great  scientist  inspired  Mrs.  Whiting  to  in 
vite  all  her  best  friends  and  planned  that  each  one  should  ask  some 
momentous  question  during  the  evening. 

The  evening  began  with  a  most  brilliant  conversation,  led  prin 
cipally  by  Mrs.  Whiting  and  Adeline,  two  matchless  women  accord 
ing  to  Melville's  view,  and  as  he  thought  of  the  matter  more  closely, 
he  asked  himself  if  Miss  Cameron  would  fit  in  this  group;  but  his 
answer  was  No,  nothing  but  No.  How  foolish  he  had  been  to  pay 
any  attention  to  that  girl,  he  thought  to  himself.  No,  he  did  not  love 
her.  He  had  just  schooled  his  mind  to  think  he  loved  her  because 
Mrs.  Arnold  had  so  deeply  impressed  the  idea  upon  his  mind.  And, 
as  he  realized  this,  a  dislike  for  that  strong-minded  widow  began  to 
take  possession  of  all  of  his  feelings,  and  he  found  it  difficult,  for  the 
time  being,  to  carry  out  his  resolve  never  to  dislike  anybody  any  more. 


The   Will   and   The   Way 65 

But  his  attention  was  completely  removed  from  the  subject  when  it 
was  announced  that  Cyril  Janos  had  arrived. 

The  coming  of  this  remarkable  man  aroused  special  interest  in 
the  mind  of  Mr.  Spaulding,  as  he  was  the  only  one  of  the  company 
who  had  not  met  this  strange  philosopher  before. 

When  Mr.  Spaulding  saw  Cyril  Janos  he  saw  a  man  that  could 
not  be  read  from  personal  appearance.  Two  impressions  came  to 
his  mind.  One  was  that  there  was  no  fault  to  find  with  the  appear 
ance;  the  other  was  that  there  was  such  an  immensity  back  of  the 
appearance  that  the  external  features  were  as  yet  incapable  of  ex 
pressing  more  than  a  mere  fraction  of  what  was  alive  within.  To 
most  people,  Cyril  Janos  was  a  Sphinx.  To  those  who  knew  him 
as  he  really  was,  he  was  without  comparison,  beyond  and  above 
everybody  they  had  ever  met.  He  was  not  a  mystic;  did  not  pose  as 
trying  to  be  a  saint;  he  mingled  freely  among  all  men  and  answered 
their  questions  briefly.  He  spoke  only  of  what  the  inquirer  could 
understand.  He  never  told  all  he  knew  on  any  subject  until  he  had 
auditors  that  actually  wanted  to  know  it  all.  His  personality  never 
attracted  special  attention  the  first  time,  but  the  more  frequently  he 
was  met,  the  more  attractive,  the  more  remarkable,  the  more  beauti 
ful  and  the  more  fascinating  his  entire  nature  became.  He  grew  on 
everybody  and  never  ceased  to  grow  no  matter  how  frequently  he 
was  seen.  He  had  no  peculiarities  except  that  he  seemed  to  be  dif 
ferent.  He  was  a  type  of  which  there  was  but  one,  and  he  alone  was 
that  one. 

After  the  plan  of  the  evening  had  been  explained  and  every 
body  invited  to  think  of  some  remarkable  question,  Mr.  Spaulding 
was  requested  to  present  the  first  problem. 

"There  is  a  certain  deficiency,"  Mr.  Spaulding  began,  "in  one 
of  the  leading  electrical  apparatus  in  the  world.  To  correct  this  de 
ficiency  a  new  invention  will  be  required,  and  if  such  an  invention 
were  perfected  the  cost  of  electricity  for  power,  light  or  fuel  would 
be  reduced  to  less  than  one-fourth  of  what  it  is  now,  and  human  com 
fort  would  be  increased  in  a  thousand  ways  to  correspond.  I  have 
thought  of  such  an  invention  for  years,  though  not  deeply,  as  my 
time  has  been  otherwise  occupied;  but  recently  the  subject  has  come 
to  my  mind  with  added  force  and  I  would  like  to  know  if  there  is 
anything  in  your  philosophy  that  I  could  employ  in  training  my  mind 
for  this  undertaking." 

"I  am  delighted,"  Cyril  Janos  replied  with  enthusiasm;  "this  is 
a  most  interesting  problem,  and  I  think  I  know  what  it  is  to  which 
you  refer." 

I  am  glad  of  that;  but  is  there  any  hope  for  me  working  it  out?" 

There   certainly   is.      You   already  have   considerable   inventive 

genius,  and  you  cannot  only  bring  out  all  of  that  genius  through  a  very 

simple  method,   but  you  can  also  train  it  to  work  for  that  particular 

invention  you  have  in  view." 

At  this  remark  Mr.  Spaulding,  looked  knowingly  at  Adeline,  and 


66 The  Will   and   The  Way 

she  returned  the  glance  with  as  much  as  to  say,  "I  knew  from  the  be 
ginning  that  your  best  days  are  yet  to  come." 

"This  is  good  news,  indeed,"  continued  Mr.  Spaulding,  "and  1 
know  that  you  will  tell  me  how  to  proceed." 

All  were  silent  for  a  moment,  and  the  face  of  Cyril  Janos  seemed 
to  beam  with  a  joy  that  no  one  present  had  ever  witnessed  before. 
But  that  joy  was  more  than  joy.  It  seemed  to  say  something,  and  it 
seemed  to  say  the  same  to  all  who  were  present.  They  all  seemed 
to  read  in  his  expression,  "Watch  for  some  marvelous  invention.  It 
will  come  without  fail." 

The  great  scientist  then  resumed,  and  asked  Mr.  Spaulding  what 
he  knew  about  that  strange  and  fascinating  something  usually  termed 
the  subconscious  mind. 

"I  do  not  claim  to  know  very  much  about  it,"  Mr.  Spaulding 
replied,  "but  I  think  I  have  read  almost  everything  published  on  the 
subject.  I  am,  therefore,  quite  ready  for  added  information." 

"Yes,  in  that  case,  you  are  ready;  and  to  proceed,  the  first  es 
sential  is  to  train  that  inner  servant  of  the  mind  to  express  all  the  in 
ventive  genius  you  possess.  The  second  essential  is  to  train  it  to  work 
out  that  which  you  have  resolved  to  perfect." 

"And  may  I  positively  expect  results?"  Mr.  Spaulding  inquired, 
his  interest  and  attention  becoming  intense. 

"Yes,  positively,"  Cyril  Janos  replied  with  calm  assurance;  "and 
1  use  the  term  'positively'  because  the  two  great  principles  involved, 
if  applied,  would  not  permit  of  failure.  The  first  principle  is  that 
the  subconscious  mind  can  be  trained  to  do  anything  that  lies  within 
the  possibilities  of  human  life,  and  thus  far  we  have  found  no  limit 
to  that  possibility;  nor  is  it  likely  that  we  ever  shall.  The  second 
principle  is  that  the  subconscious  mind  never  fails  to  do  what  it  is 
properly  directed  to  do." 

"Then,  according  to  your  doctrine,"  interrupted  Adeline,  "every 
mind  will  reach  its  goal  some  day,  no  matter  how  unattainable  that 
goal  may  seem  to  be." 

"Precisely  so." 

"That  is  what  my  mother  taught  me,"  she  added,  with  infinite 
tenderness;  "and  I  always  knew  it  was  true." 

"Then  suppose  a  man  has  no  talent  along  a  certain  line,"  in 
quired  Reardon;  "can  he  ever  hope  to  accomplish  anything  along 
that  line?" 

"Yes,  positively  again,  because  the  subconscious  mind  can  create 
the  necessary  talent,  and  later  express  it.  All  the  talent  and  all  the 
genius  that  ever  appeared  in  any  mind  or  that  ever  will  appear  in 
any  mind  exists  already  in  the  subconscious  of  every  mind.  It  can 
therefore  be  brought  out,  though  much  time  will  be  required  if  that 
talent  is  not  in  evidence." 

"Would  you  advise  a  man  to  create  or  bring  out  talent  he  does 
not  seem  to  possess?"  asked  Mr.  Spaulding. 

"No.  Not  as  a  rule.  If  there  were  no  signs  of  the  inventive 
genius  in  your  conscious  or  outer  mind,  I  should  not  advise  you  to  go 


'  The   Will   and   The   Way 67 

to  work  with  this  invention.  The  average  person  has  not  learned  to 
live  long  enough  to  bring  out  from  the  deep  realms  of  the  mind  what 
has  never  been  expressed  before.  It  has  been  done,  however,  a 
number  of  times,  but  the  wisest  course  is  to  proceed  to  train  the 
strongest  talent  to  do  what  you  wish  to  have  done;  then  you  will 
secure  results  almost  from  the  beginning." 

"I  understand,  and  I  always  thought  that  the  inventive  faculty 
was  one  of  the  strongest  in  my  mind,  though  it  has  been  entirely 
neglected  because  I  took  somebody's  advice  when  a  boy  and  entered 
the  wrong  vocation." 

"That  is  true,  Mr.  Spaulding,  and  therefore  you  may  proceed 
with  that  new  ambtiion,  knowing  that  you  will  have  results." 

"But  that  is  certainly  encouraging  to  a  man  who  has  had  the 
experience  that  has  recently  been  mine.  And  I  believe  you  are  right. 
Something  within  me  seems  to  tell  me  you  are  right,  though  I  am 
becoming  anxious  to  learn  how  to  proceed." 

"That  is  very  simple;  in  fact,  many  would  say  it  is  too  simple 
to  be  effective.  Begin  by  forming  a  very  clear  idea  of  that  which 
you  wish  to  invent,  and  impress  this  idea  almost  constantly  upon 
your  subconscious  mind.  Continue  to  live  in  a  manner  where  you 
seem  to  consciously  and  deeply  feel  yourself  inventing  what  you  have 
in  view,  and  never  cease  to  expect  the  results  desired.  Tell  the  sub 
conscious  mind  every  day  what  you  wish  to  do.  Talk  to  this  mind 
as  if  it  had  intelligence,  because  it  has;  and  believe  firmly  that  your 
instructions  will  be  carried  out  to  the  letter.  Imagine  constantly  that 
the  subconscious  mind  is  doing  what  you  have  directed  it  to  do,  and 
inspire  this  imaging  process  with  a  desire  so  deep  and  so  strong  that 
it  seems  to  arouse  unlimited  determination  in  every  atom  of  your 
being." 

"And  is  that  all  there  is  to  it?"  inquired  Mr.  Spaulding,  anxiously. 

"Yes,  that  is  all,  and  to  those  who  understand  it  is  sufficient." 

"I  see  what  you  mean.  You  have  given  me  the  principle  and 
it  is  my  work  to  apply  the  principle;  though,  if  I  should  fail  to  make 
the  principle  applicable  in  my  case,  it  would  simply  indicate  that  I 
have  not  sufficient  intelligence  to  do  what  I  have  the  ambition  to  do." 

"You  have  stated  the  matter  well,  Mr.  Spaulding,  and  you  have 
said  a  thousand  times  as  much  as  your  words  at  first  would  seem  to 
convey." 

For  a  few  moments  everybody  was  silent,  evidently  trying  to 
read  between  the  lines,  when  finally  Mr.  Warren  announced  that  he 
had  something  to  ask  that  he  considered  just  as  important  as  the 
problem  just  presented. 

"We  shall  be  deeply  interested  in  your  question,"  Cyril  Janos 
replied,  his  face  indicating  deep  satisfaction. 

"Thank  you,"  said  Mr.  Warren,  deeply  pleased  with  the  attitude 
displayed  by  the  great  philosopher;  "then  I  will  state  my  case  and 
do  so  as  briefly  as  I  can.  I  have  a  great  project  in  mind;  in  fact,  I 
am  laying  the  plans  for  what  appears  to  me  to  be  the  greatest  move- 
men  for  human  welfare  ever  established.  I  will  give  details  later, 


68 The   Will   and   The   Way 

but  what  I  wish  to  know  now  is  how  I  can  place  myself  in  touch 
with  the  necessary  means  to  carry  out  my  plan." 

"I  understand.      And  have  you  tried  persistent  desire?" 

"I  am  trying  it  now,  but  1  am  convinced  that  something  more 
will  be  required." 

"1  am  happy,  indeed,  to  learn  that  you  have  made  this  discovery. 
Though  persistent  desire  is  mighty,  it  does  not  always  succeed.  It 
succeeds  only  when  it  has  soul,  and  the  soul  of  persistent  desire  is 
nothing  less  than  faith." 

"Oh!  but  I  am  glad,"  Mrs.  Whiting  declared,  "to  have  that 
subject  mentioned.  1  firmly  believe  it  is  the  secret  that  underlies 
every  great  achievement  in  human  life." 

"It  is,"  Cyril  Janos  replied,  calmly;  "but  the  number  who  possess 
the  insight  to  discern  the  real  significance  of  faith  is  not  as  large  as 
we  should  desire." 

"And  will  you  kindly  tell  us  what  you  mean  by  the  real  signifi 
cance  of  faith?"  Mr.  Warren  inquired  with  a  deepening  interest. 

"Believe  that  you  can  do  what  you  wish  to  do,  and  then  place 
all  of  yourself  in  that  belief." 

"Yes,  I  understand,"  Mr.  Warren  replied;  and  his  countenance 
indicated  to  everyone  present  that  he  did  understand.  They  saw 
what  he  felt;  that  his  problem  was  solved;  that  he  now  might  pro 
ceed  to  make  the  new  dream  of  his  life  come  true. 

"In  this  connection,"  interrupted  Adeline,  "how  do  you  in 
terpret  the  statement  that  God  helps  them  that  help  themselves?" 

"Thank  you  for  asking  that  question.  I  consider  it  one  of  the 
greatest  that  could  possibly  arise  in  the  human  mind,  and  my  answer 
is  this:  When  man  helps  himself  he  is  turning  to  good  account  every 
thing  that  exists  within  himself,  and  there  is  no  reason  why  he  should 
seek  aid  from  any  source  external  to  himself  until  he  has  first  made 
proper  use  of  what  he  already  possesses.  But  when  he  has  reached 
that  stage  where  he  is  truly  and  fully  helping  himself,  he  has  reached 
the  bounds  of  his  own  capacity,  and  to  go  further  he  will  need  assist 
ance;  and  it  is  the  great  law  that  we  invariably  receive  additional 
life  and  power  from  the  limitless  when  we  fully  employ  what  we 
already  possess.  When  we  use  intelligently  all  of -our  power,  then 
we  will  begin  to  receive  assistance  from  Supreme  Power,  and  the  rea 
son  why  is  simple.  We  can  touch  that  which  is  on  the  outside  of 
the  circle  of  limitation  only  when  we  live  up  to  the  full  capacity  of 
that  circle.  We  must  be  all  that  we  are  before  we  can  justly  expect 
to  receive  that  which  will  enable  us  to  be  more  than  we  are." 

"Then  you  believe,"  said  Mrs.  Whiting,  "that  the  human  mind 
must  necessarily  place  itself  in  touch  with  the  Infinite  mind  if  that 
which  is  great  or  extraordinary  is  to  be  accomplished." 

"Yes,  that  is  precisely  what  I  mean;  and  it  is  one  of  those  truths 
that  no  person  can  afford  to  ignore  for  a  single  moment." 

"But  is  it  necessary,"  Mrs.  Whiting  continued,  "for  the  human 
mind  to  attain  a  certain  state  of  goodness  before  it  can  act  in  harmony 
with  Infinite  mind;  and  if  so,  what  is  the  reason  that  good  men  do 


The  Will   and   The  Way 69 

not  always  succeed?  Such  minds  are  supposed  to  be  in  closer  touch 
with  the  Supreme.  And  I  might  add,  what  is  the  reason  that  ques 
tionable  methods  frequently  do  succeed?" 

"This  is  a  problem  that  is  disturbing  nearly  every  mind  in  the 
world  today;  but  again  the  answer  is  simple.  It  is  ability  that  suc 
ceeds  and  not  passive  qualities,  no  matter  how  admirable  those  qual 
ities  may  be.  No  person  can  succeed  simply  because  he  is  honest  and 
just  and  good.  He  must  have  ability;  but  if  his  ability  is  combined 
with  character,  manhood  and  true  worth,  his  success  will  be  far 
greater;  and  besides,  the  happiness  that  he  will  gain  from  his  success 
will  be  multiplied  many  times.  Ability  to  make  money  will  make 
money  whether  the  methods  employed  are  in  strict  accord  with  jus 
tice  or  not;  but  whether  such  gains  are  worth  while  or  not  is  another 
question." 

"Your  answer  is  entirely  satisfactory  to  me,"  said  Mr.  Writing; 
"and  it  is  my  conviction  that  when  your  views  on  this  subject  are 
made  generally  known,  the  seeming  injustice  that  appears  everywhere 
in  the  world  will  be  a  mystery  no  more." 

"That  is  the  truth;  and  everybody  having  greater  things  in  view 
will  then  find  that  the  force  of  mind  must  be  combined  with  the  force 
of  character.  The  force  of  mind  without  the  force  of  character  has 
no  definite  center  of  action.  It  is  power  minus  the  man.  It  has  no 
permanent  basis  of  operation,  and  therefore  its  success  can  never  be 
permanent.  Regardless  of  precaution  its  forces  will  finally  scatter." 

"Will  you  kindly  tell  us,"  inquired  Mr.  Reardon,  "what  you 
mean  by  character?" 

"Yes,  I  will  give  you  a  very  brief  definition,  one  that  any  in 
telligent  mind  can  work  out  and  develop  to  any  point  of  perfection. 
Character  is  the  harmonious  blending  of  positive  qualities  in  con 
structive  action." 

"And  may  I  inquire  how  an  ambitious  man  should  apply  his  mind 
and  character  when  he  meets  what  he  wants,  but  realizes  at  the  time 
that  he  has  neither  the  power  nor  the  opportunity  to  get  it?" 

"Another  great  question,"  replied  Cyril  Janos,  with  enthusiasm. 
"I  wish  we  had  time  to  do  them  all  justice  tonight.  However,  the 
answer  you  require  can  be  stated  very  briefly.  When  the  average 
person  meets  what  he  wants,  but  cannot  get,  he  becomes  mentally 
depressed.  In  other  words,  his  mind  falls  down;  and  when  the  mind 
falls  down  it  loses  that  power  through  which  the  thing  desired  is  to 
be  gained.  At  such  a  time  a  person  should,  instead,  become  more 
determined  than  ever  before,  and  should  so  increase  his  desire  to 
win  that  he  would  stamp  out  completely  every  thought  of  disappoint 
ment.  Instead  of  thinking  of  himself  as  *p°or  me'  at  such  times,  he 
should  declare  with  all  the  power  of  his  mind  and  soul  that  he  can 
and  that  he  will  make  this  ambition  come  true." 

"Such   thoughts  are  certainly  inspiring,"    declared   Mr.    Warren; 
"and   I   should   certainly   become   supremely   happy   if   every   man   in  * 
the  world   could   be   endued   with   the  whole   of   this  optimistic   phil 
osophy;  but  how  can  the  average  man  continue  to  apply  such  ideas 


70 The  Will   and   The  Way 

when  he  realizes  year  after  year  that  everything  is  going  wrong?" 

"In  the  first  place,  things  would  not  go  wrong  year  after  year 
if  the  man  himself  were  always  going  right.  If  you  are  going  right 
and  persist  in  going  right,  everything  will  soon  cease  to  go  wrong. 
Things  will  soon  change  and  begin  to  go  where  you  are  going.  It  is 
only  a  question  of  whether  you  are  to  be  pulled  down  by  things  or 
things  are  to  be  pulled  up  by  you." 

"And  to  that  I  should  like  to  add,"  said  Mrs.  Whiting,  "that 
every  disappointment  contains  an  opportunity." 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Spaulding,  "and  every  failure  is  an  open  door 
to  greater  success." 

"And  do  not  forget,"  interrupted  Reardon,  "that  the  darkest 
night  is  but  the  vestibule  to  some  bright  and  glorious  day." 

"And  remember,  please,"  Mr.  Warren  added,  "that  when  your 
last  effort  is  followed  by  another  effort  the  tide  invariably  turns." 

"All  very  good,"  said  Mr.  Whiting;  "but  we  must  also  remem 
ber  that  the  greatest  adversity  is  but  richness  and  power  gone  wrong, 
though  it  cannot  go  wrong  very  long  if  we  persist  in  going  right." 

"And  it  is  so  easy  to  go  right,"  said  Adeline,  "when  you  know 
that  you  will  always  find  what  you  want  at  the  end  of  that  road." 

"Now,  Mildred,"  said  Mrs.  Whiting,  "what  can  you  add  to  this 
brilliant  array  of  aphorisms?" 

"I  should  like  to  add  something,"  she  said  in  her  usually  quiet 
and  timid  manner,  "and  this  is  it:  From  certain  points  of  view  even 
a  tear  will  sparkle  like  the  most  brilliant  diamond." 

"You  are  a  wonderful  girl,"  said  Mrs.  Whiting;  "but  you  your 
self  are  the  only  one  who  does  not  see  mto  think  so.  You  are  noth 
ing  less  than  a  rare  jewel;  though  I  know  you  would  feel  more  com 
fortable  if  I  should  speak  of  you  as  the  least  of  human  creatures." 

"Now,  it  is  not  as  bad  as  that,"  Miss  Kirkwood  replied,  as  she 
blushed  in  the  consciousness  of  the  fact  that  she  had  suddenly  be 
come  the  center  of  discussion;  "but,"  she  continued,  "it  always 
seemed  to  me  that  everybody  had  more  worth  and  value  than  I." 

"And  for  that  reason,"  Mrs.  Whiting  replied,  "you  have  made 
it  a  part  of  your  life  to  add  to  the  worth  of  others  by  giving  yourself 
away  completely  to  every  demand  that  your  friends  might  make; 
but  you  have  received  nothing  in  return." 

"Yes,  but  it  makes  me  happy  to  serve." 

"That  may  be  true,"  Mrs.  Whiting  continued,  "but  that  is  no 
reason  why  you  should  be  a  doormat  when  you  were  made  to  be  a 
crown." 

"Probably  not,  but  in  the  one  case  I  would  be  useful,  while  in 
the  other  purely  ornamental." 

"Now  you  are  wrong  again,"  said  Mrs.  Whiting,  with  emphasis; 
"the  ornamental  is  just  as  necessary  to  the  greatest  good  in  human 
life  as  that  which  we  speak  of  as  strictly  practical.  Things  that  seem 
to  be  purely  ornamental  are  sometimes  the  most  useful,  and  we  know 
very  well  that  the  beautiful  is  second  to  nothing  in  the  measure  of 
service." 


The   Will   and   The   Way  _T\_ 

"Most  beautifully  true,"  said  Adeline,  and  everybody  nodded 
assent. 

"And  that  reminds  me,"  Mrs.  Whiting  continued,  "that  Mil 
dred  has  not  presented  her  question.  Do  let  us  have  it  at  once." 

"I  think  I  better  not,"  Miss  Kirkwood  replied,  as  she  blushed  in 
her  usual  extravagant  manner.  "There  is  only  one  question  that  I 
can  think  of,  and  I  am  sure  it  is  not  in  harmony  with  the  profound 
discussion  that  has  been  taking  place  here  tonight." 

"That  may  be  the  very  reason  why  we  should  have  it,"  Mrs. 
Whiting  replied;  "and  I  insist  that  we  have  it  wothout  delay." 

"Very  well,"  said  Miss  Kirkwood;  "but  it  has  always  been  a 
mystery  to  me  why  a  young  man  always  tells  his  latest  girl  that  she 
is  the  only  girl  he  has  ever  loved." 

"I  knew  Miss  Kirkwood  had  something  good,"  said  Mrs.  Whit 
ing,  laughingly,  "and  I  am  sure  we  shall  all  be  more  than  interested 
to  know  the  answer;  especially  since  it  is  a  fact  that  nearly  every 
young  man  seems  to  believe  what  he  says  under  such  circumstances." 

"This  answer  is  simple  enough,"  said  Cyril  Janos;  "and  again 
we  are  considering  a  subject  which,  if  thoroughly  understood,  would 
dispel  a  multitude  of  troubles.  The  fact  is  that  when  a  man  is  in 
love,  the  object  of  his  affections  is  the  only  creature  that  exists  in  the 
world  of  his  love.  His  mind  is  so  absorbed  in  that  one  creature  that 
he  is  wholly  unconscious  of  anyone  else  ever  existing  in  the  world. 
When  a  man  is  in  love,  the  present  love  is  the  only  love  that  seems 
real.  All  previous  loves  now  appear  to  be  nothing  but  illusions. 
And,  therefore,  the  fact  that  a  man  tells  his  girl  that  she  is  the  only 
girl  he  ever  loved  is  usually  conclusive  evidence  that  his  affections 
for  her  are  genuine;  provided,  however,  that  his  declarations  ring 
true,  and  this  any  girl  can  tell  without  fail." 

With  this  remark  Cyril  Janos  excused  himself  for  the  evening; 
and  a  little  later  the  others  also  took  their  departure,  each  one  realiz 
ing  that  it  had  been  an  evening  that  could  not  be  easily  forgotten. 


XIII. 

An  eventful  summer  had  passed;  at  any  rate  it  seemed  eventful 
to  Mildred  Kirkwood;  and  an  autumn  equally  important  was  fast 
moving  to  a  close.  For  several  months  she  had  been  making  prep 
arations  for  the  great  climax  in  her  life,  though  she  had  no  idea  as 
to  how  or  when  it  was  to  occur.  Early  in  the  summer,  after  learning 
the  secrets  from  Mrs.  Whiting,  she  had  resolved  to  become  the  wife 
of  the  best  man  in  the  world,  and  she  fully  expected  to  have  the  op 
portunity  to  carry  out  her  resolution.  She  was  carefully  schooling 
herself  to  avoid  every  feeling  of  disappointment,  no  matter  what 
external  appearances  in  the  matter  might  be,  as  she  had  been  told 
that  mental  depression  would  only  defeat  her  purpose.  However, 
there  was  nothing  in  sight  that  would  indicate  the  speedy  coming  of 
the  climax. 


72 The  Will   and   The  Way 

She  was  convinced  that  she  had  discovered  the  best  man  in  the 
world,  but  to  win  him  was  out  of  the  question;  so  she  sometimes 
thought,  though  usually  she  would  refuse  absolutely  to  entertain  such 
a  thought.  Instead,  she  would  think  to  herself,  "I  will  do  what  is 
necessary  to  win  the  best  man  in  the  world,  and  when  all  is  in  readi 
ness,  he  will  surely  come."  Thus  she  put  away  all  unfavorable  indi 
cations  and  continued  to  smile  herself  into  the  hearts  of  everybody 
she  met. 

One  day  as  the  holiday  season  was  approaching  she  thought 
more  seriously  than  ever  before  of  the  future  she  had  pictured  for 
herself.  It  was  during  the  noon  hour,  and  she  was  alone  in  that  part 
of  the  grat  establishment  where  she  was  employed.  She  therefore 
had  the  opportunity  to  think  in  peace,  and  somehow  the  cherished 
dream  seemed  almost  real.  She  wondered  why,  but  was  soon  awak 
ened  from  her  sweet  reverie  by  the  approach  of  Marshall  Chesterton. 

"Alone  with  your  thoughts,"  he  said  as  he  gave  her  a  hand 
shake  that  seemed  to  say  what  she  so  dearly  hoped  some  day  to  hear. 
"And  1  know,"  he  continued,  in  a  more  tender  voice  than  he  had 
ever  used  in  her  presence  before,  "that  those  thoughts  are  most  beau 
tiful." 

"And  how  do  you  know?"  she  asked,  her  face  radiating  with 
loveliness  as  she  suddenly  gave  expression  to  those  exquisite  emo 
tions  she  so  deeply  felt  in  her  soul. 

"Becaue  beautiful  thoughts  always  produce  a  beautiful  counte 
nance,"  he  replied;  and  as  he  spoke  he  observed  that  his  words  had 
the  effect  desired. 

"To  that  I  have  nothing  to  say,"  she  answered  him  quietly; 
"only  1  know  my  thoughts  are  beautiful,  far  more  so  than  you  think." 

"There  is  no  question  about  that,  Miss  Kirkwood,  and  this  is 
not  the  first  day  that  you  have  had  such  thoughts.  I  have  noticed 
a  great  change  in  you;  in  fact,  I  should  say,  a  phenomenal  change, 
and  it  seems  that  it  began  some  months  ago;  and  of  course  you  have 
noticed  that  my  visits  to  this  establishment  have  been  far  more  fre 
quent  since  that  change  began.  In  the  past  1  had  business  here  only 
about  once  every  week,  but  recently  I  have  found  it  convenient  to 
call  here  on  some  pretense  or  other  every  day.  Probably  you  can 
guess  the  reason  why.  But  tell  me,  will  you  not,  what  was  it  that 
originally  produced  this  great  change?" 

"Oh!"  she  said,  as  every  atom  in  her  being  seemed  to  thrill  with 
inspiration,  "1  have  started  a  sunshine  factory." 

"Indeed?  I  think  I  understand.  Though  I  might  have  guessed 
it.  But  where  is  it  located?  It  is  a  place  I  am  more  than  curious  to 
see." 

"Why,  in  the  rear  lot  of  my  countenance.  There  was  some  va 
cant  space  there,  so  I  thought  1  would  turn  it  to  good  use." 

"Splendid  idea,  to  be  sure;  and  I  dare  say  it  will  be  worth 
millions  one  of  these  days." 

"It  is  already;  and  the  demand  for  the  product  is  so  great  that 
it  is  necessary  to  keep  the  entire  concern  in  operation  day  and  night." 


The   Will   and   The   Way  73 

"I  don't  doubt  that  in  the  least,  but  do  you  think  this  factory 
will  ever  be  for  sale?  If  it  ever  should  be  placed  on  the  market,  I 
want  the  first  opportunity.  And  I  would  consider  it  the  best  invest 
ment  that  anyone  could  ever  find." 

"No,  Mr.  Chesterton,  it  is  not  for  sale.  My  sunshine  factory 
will  never  be  sold." 

"And  why  not?" 

"Because  I  mean  to  give  it  away." 

"And  have  you  decided  who  the  luckiest  person  in  the  world 
is  to  be?" 

"Yes,  it  will  be  given  to  the  best  man  in  the  world,  and  he  may 
take  possession  as  soon  as  he  likes." 

"So  you  are  going  to  give  it  to  a  man,  are  you?  Well,  you  do 
deserve  the  best  man  in  the  world,  Miss  Kirkwood.  At  last  you  have 
placed  the  proper  estimation  upon  yourself.  If  I  were  only  that 
man!  Then,  indeed,  could  I  thank  my  stars." 

"But  you  are,"  she  whispered  in  an  undertone,  half  afraid  that  he 
might  hear  what  she  said;  "and  you  need  not  thank  your  stars,"  she 
continued  as  she  raised  the  corner  of  her  eyes  so  as  to  look  at  him,  if 
possible,  without  being  observed.  "Thank  yourself.  The  stars  have 
nothing  to  do  with  it.  You  have  made  yourself  what  you  are,  and  you 
deserve  the  honor  for  whatever  your  position  in  life  may  bring  to  you 
at  any  time." 

"No,  Miss  Kirkwood,  I  am  not  the  best  man  in  the  world,  nor  am 
I  within  a  million  miles  of  that  lofty  position." 

"But,  Mr.  Chesterton,  I  think  so,  and  that  is  sufficient,  is  it  not? 
According  to  your  own  statement,  it  is  what  I  think  in  this  case  that 
counts." 

"You  have  improved  indeed,  Miss  Kirkwood,  and  I  am  delighted 
to  see  it.  In  the  past  you  didn't  think  that  you  or  your  thoughts 
counted  for  anything." 

"Yes,  I  have  changed." 

"Nothing  is  more  evident  to  me." 

"I  do  not  feel  like  the  same  person  in  any  manner  whatever,  and 
the  chief  reason  is  that  I  have  changed  the  purpose  of  my  life." 

"I  am  quite  aware  of  the  fact  that  you  have;  but  will  you  kindly 
explain  to  me  what  this  new  purpose  might  be?" 

"The  principle  of  it  is  to  live  for  the  sake  of  always  living  more; 
and  the  result  is  that  I  enjoy  the  best  that  there  is  in  the  whole  of 
life,  not  only  as  it  is  expressed  through  the  tangible  avenues  of  visible 
material,  but  also  as  expressed  through  the  intangible  avenues  of  mind 
and  soul." 

"I  see  your  idea  and  it  is  quite  evident  to  me,  even  at  first  sight, 
that  one  would  never  get  tired  of  living  for  such  an  idea.  But  what 
more  is  there  to  your  purpose?  There  is  a  great  deal  more,  I  am  sure." 

"Yes,  there  is.  I  used  to  live  for  what  I  hoped  to  have  gotten  in 
the  past.  Now  I  live  for  what  I  expect  to  get  in  the  future." 

"Splendid,  Miss  Kirkwood.      Nothing  better  was  ever  said.      But 


74  The  Will   and   The  Way 

what  do  you  do  when  you  get  what  you  do  not  expect,  and  fail  to  get 
what  you  do  expect?" 

"I  have  learned  to  count  everything  joy,  and  I  am  training  myself 
to  believe  that  all  things  work  together  for  good." 

"Splendid  again,  though  I  dare  say  that  you  sometimes  fear  that 
you  might  get,  after  all,  what  is  contrary  to  that  which  you  expected." 
"No,  I  never  think  of  what  I  do  not  want.  1  haven't  the  time.  1  am 
too  busy  thinking  of  what  1  do  want.  I  never  fear  failure;  I  haven't 
time  for  that  either,  for  1  am  devoting  every  moment  in  training  my 
mind  to  have  more  faith  in  success." 

"No  wonder  you  have  changed  so  much,  Miss  Kirkwood.  If  a 
rock  could  think  such  thoughts,  it  would  soon  become  a  diamond. 
But  tell  me,  what  do  you  do  when  you  are  face  to  face  with  trouble?" 

"I  have  learned  to  smile  at  everything  and  to  meet  all  things 
as  good  things.  You  remember,  do  you  not,  how  soon  a  smile  of 
God  can  change  everything?" 

"I  do;  and  I  think  I  can  now  see  for  the  first  time  what  it  means 
to  smile  with  such  a  smile." 

"I  know  you  do,  Mr.  Chesterton;  and  if  you  will  think  a  moment 
you  will  see  that  there  is  only  one  smile  in  all  the  vastness  of  creation. 
Every  real  smile,  no  matter  where  it  may  appear,  is  'the  smile  of 
God,'  and  when  we  learn  to  smile  with  that  smile,  then  we  learn  how 
soon  that  smile  can  change  the  world. 

"You  are  a  jewel,  Miss  Kirkwood,  the  most  precious  jewel  that 
ever  was;  and  may  I  have  the  pleasure  to  tell  you  more,  as  much  as 
1  like,  in  the  same  tone  of  voice?" 

"You  may,  Mr.  Chesterton,"  she  sweetly  replied,  her  entire 
being  trembling  with  a  new  and  wonderful  joy;  "and  you  alone,"  she 
added  in  a  whisper  that  was  intended  to  be  too  soft  and  too  low  for 
him  to  hear;  but  he  did  hear  and  was  glad. 

In  a  few  moments  he  took  his  departure,  but  not  until  he  had 
given  her  an  invitation  that  meant  everything  she  had  dreamed  for 
the  future.  And  how  soon,  she  thought  to  herself  when  alone,  it  all 
came  about.  Yes,  it  was  the  smile,  and  how  soon  that  smile  changed 
everything.  It  brought  her  into  a  new  world,  and  in  that  world  every 
thing  was  beautiful  in  the  present,  with  every  promise  for  the  future. 
Wonderful  indeed,  she  thought  again.  Yes,  phenomenal;  but  how 
and  where  did  it  all  begin?  Simply  a  change  in  herself.  That  was 
the  secret.  By  trying  to  be  everything  that  nature  had  given  her  the 
power  to  be,  she  had  come  to  a  place  where  she  was  about  to  receive 
everything  she  had  ever  desired  or  longed  for. 

Mr.  Chesterton  was  not  only  one  of  the  select  among  real  men; 
he  was  more.  As  to  character,  nobleness  and  worth,  he  was  all  that 
any  woman  could  desire;  but  he  also  possessed  remarkable  ability,  and 
through  that  ability  had  already  won  great  success  in  the  world.  He 
was  only  in  the  early  thirties,  a  few  years  her  senior,  and  could  readily 
have  won  almost  any  woman  that  he  might  have  wanted.  But  he 
had  waited  for  a  woman  that  possessed  that  strange  something  so  few 
women  have  taken  time  to  cultivate.  And  as  Mildred  realized  that 


The   Will   and   The   Way 75 

she  had,  through  her  own  efforts,  become  the  possessor  of  that  charmed 
something,  she  could  hardly  contain  herself  for  joy.  And  all  that 
afternoon  she  continued  to  dream  her  beautiful  dream,  a  dream  that 
was  fast  coming  true,  a  dream  that  would  give  her  far  more  happiness 
than  she  ever  imagined  could  come  to  any  human  soul. 

XIV 

"With  your  kind  permission,  Miss  Cameron,  I  should  like  to  talk 
to  you  about  the  more  serious  side  of  life  tonight." 

"Very  well,   Mr.   Reardon.      I  am  always  ready  to  please  you." 

That  was  true.  She  seemed  always  ready  to  please  and  that  was 
one  reason  why  he  thought  he  loved  her  so  much.  He  had  come  to 
the  conclusion,  however,  that  he  would  not  make  a  declaration  of  his 
affections  until  he  had  learned  whether  there  would  be  harmony  of 
thought  in  their  lives.  He  had  tried  several  times  to  attract  her 
attention  to  some  of  his  most  important  ideas,  but  in  each  instance 
she  had  changed  the  subject  so  tactfully  that  he  had  followed  her 
inclinations  without  hardly  knowing  that  he  did  so.  But  the  time  for 
action  was  now  at  hand.  He  felt  he  could  wait  no  longer.  He  would 
ask  her  a  few  general  questions  about  matters  that  he  considered  vital, 
and  if  there  seemed  to  be  indications  of  harmony  between  them,  he 
would  ask  her  then  and  there  to  link  her  life  with  his. 

The  thought  of  this  step  gave  him  a  peculiar  inner  sensation  that 
he  could  not  understand.  It  was  pleasing  and  yet  it  was  not  pleasing. 
For  a  moment  he  continued  in  this  state,  and  as  he  listened  to  the 
autumn  winds  as  they  were  fiercely  blowing  without,  the  situation 
seemed  to  receive  a  strange  romantic  touch.  Suddenly  he  was  carried 
away,  so  to  speak,  from  all  that  was  matter  of  fact  in  life,  and  he  found 
it  difficult  to  take  up  the  subject  he  intended. 

When  one  is  touched  with  those  mysterious  elements  of  life  that 
speak  only  in  the  language  of  love,  reason  has  nothing  to  say,  and 
when  nature  conspires  to  intensify  the  intoxication  of  that  delicious 
state,  either  with  her  sublime  panorama  or  with  her  weird  and  soulful 
intonations,  there  is  nothing  to  be  done  but  simply  to  follow  the  bent 
of  the  heart.  And  it  was  in  a  condition  somewhat  similar  to  this  that 
Mr.  Reardon  found  himself  as  he  sat  there  beside  his  golden-haired 
maiden,  encircled,  so  to  speak,  in  the  dream-producing  comfort  of  an 
open  fireplace. 

Finally  he  succeeded  in  asking  her,  "Do  you  think  that  a  married 
couple  ought  to  be  in  perfect  harmony  as  to  thought?" 

"No,"  she  quickly  replied,  "it  would  be  too  monotonous." 

"But  suppose  the  husband  had  some  great  purpose  in  life  and 
his  wife  was  not  interested  in  that  purpose,  would  it  not  be  a  detriment 
to  his  success?" 

"I  suppose  so,"  she  answered  in  a  tone  that  was  decidedly  lacking 
in  interest. 

"You  know  I  have  a  great  purpose  in  life,"  he  resumed,  after  a 
somewhat  uncomfortable  pause;  "I  should  like  to  tell  you  something 
about  it." 

"All  right;  go  on.      I  will  listen." 


76 The  Will   and   The  Way 

This  reply  did  not  please  him  very  much,  but  he  loved  her,  so 
therefore  he  could  overlook  a  small  matter  like  that.  "You  know," 
he  began,  "I  do  not  think  we  are  here  to  get  ready  to  die.  I  think 
we  are  here  to  live  as  long  as  we  can  and  accomplish  as  much  as  we 
can,  not  only  for  our  own,  but  for  the  whole  race." 

"Then  why  don't  somebody  do  it?" 

"I  mean  to  do  it,  Miss  Cameron.  Would  you  not  like  to  see  me 
realize  such  a  dream?" 

"No,  I  think  not.  1  would  rather  see  you  try  to  make  your  family 
happy  and  get  all  the  pleasure  you  could  out  of  life  while  you  live." 

"Yes.  But  suppose  I  would  do  both  of  these  things,  and  in  addi 
tion  continue  not  only  to  prolong  my  life,  but  to  live  every  year  a 
richer,  better  and  more  useful  life.  Wouldn't  that  be  better  still?" 

"I  don't  think  1  understand  you,  Mr.  Reardon." 

"I  wish  you  did,  Miss  Cameron.  I  would  like  very  much  to  have 
you  understand  me  perfectly." 

"Yes,  but  what  does  it  matter?  We  can  enjoy  ourselves  even 
though  we  should  never  mention  those  weighty  matters." 

"I  would  rather  not  take  that  position  concerning  everything  that 
is  vital  that  we  may  meet  in  this  world,  for  you  know  I  want  to  do 
something  extraordinary,  or  at  least  something  worth  while." 

"I  do  not  doubt  but  that  you  will." 

"I  know  I  will.  I  must.  But  the  woman  I  love  can  do  more 
for  me  in  that  respect  than  I  can  myself,  if  she  believes  in  me  and 
in  my  purpose." 

"That  may  be  true." 

"Don't  you  think  a  woman  can  inspire  a  man,  Miss  Cameron?" 

"I  do  not  know  how  she  would.      1  never  thought  of  it." 

"If  she  loves  him  and  believes  in  him,  she  certainly  will,  or  I 
should  say  she  can.  But  there  is  love  and  love." 

"Now,  Mr.  Reardon,  you  intend  to  draw  me  into  a  deep  discus 
sion.  I  think  there  is  more  happiness  to  be  found  in  some  other  way, 
and  when  people  love  each  other,  everything  else  will  come  out  all 
right." 

"You  may  have  the  correct  view,"  he  concluded;  and  though 
he  wished  her  ideas  were  different,  or  at  any  rate  that  she  would  take 
an  interest  in  his  ideas,  still  he  decided  that  he  would  seek  her  love 
anyway  and  then  hope  that  everything  would  come  right. 

After  a  few  moments  of  delicious  imagination  wherein  he  pictured 
to  himself  how  desirable  such  a  love  would  be,  he  felt  he  had  the 
courage  to  tell  her  what  he  had  come  to  say  that  evening;  and  his 
courage  did  not  fail  him.  He  did  tell  her  and  continued  to  tell  her, 
in  a  hundred  different  ways,  the  oldest  and  the  newest  of  stories  in 
the  world ;  but  as  he  was  about  to  ask  her  to  become  his  own  forever, 
his  mind  was  suddenly  brought  down  from  those  sublime  heights  to 
be  rudely  shocked  by  something  very  ordinary.  He  thought  he  saw 
someone  move  back  of  the  portiers  that  partly  closed  the  doorway. 
He  looked  again  and  he  was  not  mistaken.  For  a  moment  he  was 
dazed  and  it  seemed  as  if  his  mind  was  standing  still. 


The   Will   and   The   Way  77 

"Oh!  what  is  the  matter?"  she  cried.  "You  are  as  white  as 
a  ghost." 

"Oh,  nothing,"  he  was  finally  able  to  say. 

"Yes,  there  is  something.  Tell  me  at  once;  I  am  getting 
frightened." 

"I  will  tell  you  in  a  moment,"  he  replied,  fiercely,  as  he  rose  and 
walked  to  the  door.  And  as  he  looked  back  of  the  portieres  he  dis 
covered  the  cause  of  the  strange  movements  he  had  observed.  He 
said  nothing  but  calmly  returned  and  took  his  chair  at  her  side. 

"What  did  you  see?"  she  inquired  with  troubled  curiosity. 

"Nothing  much,"  he  replied.  "Just  a  man.  A  mere  man.  A 
very  ordinary  man.  A  man  who  is  not  good  enough  to  be  my  father- 
in-law;  but  he  has  listened,  undoubtedly  in  rapturous  glee,  to  our  entire 
conversation  tonight." 

"It  is  not  true,"  she  cried,  her  face  turning  crimson  with  anger. 

"But  it  is  true,"  he  said  in  a  tone  that  was  almost  as  cold  as  ice. 
"And  so  good-bye,  Miss  Cameron.  We  shall  not  meet  again." 

With  these  words  he  left  the  house,  and  as  he  closed  the  door 
behind  him,  he  closed  his  heart  forever  to  every  woman  in  the  world 
except  the  one  woman,  the  image  of  which  he  had  so  frequently  seen 
and  admired  in  his  lofty  dreams. 

Upon  reaching  his  own  room,  he  fell  at  once  into  a  mental  state 
that  was  closely  akin  to  complete  despair;  but,  remembering  the  prin 
ciples  he  had  some  months  ago  adopted  as  the  rules  of  his  life,  he  soon 
succeeded  in  putting  away  every  thought  of  darkness  and  gloom.  And 
having  accomplished  this,  he  calmly  began  to  analyze  the  mysterious- 
ness  of  the  situation.  Once  more  his  plans  had  been  frustrated  and 
his  best  intentions  brought  to  an  unexpected  and  disagreeable  ending; 
but  it  was  not  the  first  time.  It  was  possibly  the  fifteenth  time;  pos 
sibly  the  twentieth  time;  he  could  not  definitely  recall  which.  The 
circumstances,  however,  in  each  case  bore  a  striking  similarity;  though 
he  could  hardly  say  that  he  was  sorry  that  it  had  always  happened 
that  way.  For  a  moment  there  seemed  to  be  sorrow,  but  that  was 
always  followed  with  extreme  joy.  But  those  moments  of  sorrow 
could  hardly  be  designated  as  such.  Wounded  pride  would  be  the 
better  term. 

When  he  thought  of  what  had  just  occurred  and  the  human 
smallness  that  has  brought  it  about,  he  felt  no  disappointment.  The 
man,  who,  by  his  ill-bred  or  rather  despicable  conduct,  had  brought 
this  recent  love  affair  to  such  a  sudden  termination,  was,  after  all,  his 
friend.  "Yes,"  he  said  to  himself  almost  aloud,  "that  man  is  my 
friend.  By  the  smallest  piece  of  work  in  which  anyone  could  be 
engaged  he  saved  me  from  a  life  of  trouble."  Then  he  remembered 
having  read  somewhere,  "the  words  of  those  who  are  against  us  shall 
become  a  power  in  our  hands,  and  those  who  seek  to  lead  us  into 
destruction  shall  lead  us  into  pastures  green  instead."  And  for  a 
long  time  he  thought  about  this.  It  was  certainly  true,  but  why  was 
it  true?  Why  was  it  true  in  the  life  of  some  and  not  true  in  the  life 
of  others?  Why  was  it  true  in  his  life?  Finally  he  thought  he  saw 


78 The  Will   and  The  Way 

the  answer,  and  his  mind  returned  to  the  original  problem  before  him. 

What  was  the  reason  that  all  of  his  plans  had  been  upset  so 
abruptly;  not  once,  but  in  nearly  every  instance?  Why  had  he  never 
found  what  he  had  so  earnestly  sought,  and  sought  nearly  every 
moment  of  his  personal  existence?  These  were  his  problems.  They 
were  the  same  problems  that  had  constantly  confronted  his  mind  for 
many  a  year.  But  why  should  he  ask  such  questions?  he  finally  thought 
to  himself.  Had  he  not  been  given  the  answer  already?  Did  he  not 
understand  the  situation  perfectly?  Yes,  it  was  true  he  did.  The 
situation  was  simple.  Though  his  ambitions  were  lofty  and  though 
he  felt  he  had  the  ability  to  carry  them  through,  he  had  all  his  life 
permitted  himself  to  be  the  toy  of  every  trifling  desire  and  fancy 
that  might  pass  his  way.  His  time  and  his  energy  had  constantly  been 
wasted  on  things  that  he  realized  he  did  not  want,  and  still  he  was 
constantly  deploring  the  fact  that  he  had  not  gotten  what  he  did  want. 
Then  how  could  he  expect  his  life  to  be  different?  How  could  he 
ever  win  the  one  woman  of  his  dreams  so  long  as  he  permitted  himself 
to  fall  in  love  with  every  pretty  girl  he  might  meet,  no  matter  how 
superficial  or  how  utterly  devoid  of  personal  worth  she  might  be? 
How  could  he  realize  the  great  goal  of  his  lifework  so  long  as  he  made 
every  circumstance  an  obstacle  instead  of  a  stepping-stone  toward 
that  goal?  So  much  was  clear,  but  why  had  he  acted  in  that  unprofit 
able  manner  all  his  life? 

Like  a  flash  came  the  answer,  and  he  saw  what  he  had  never 
seen  before.  All  the  important  events  of  his  life  passed  before  him, 
and  he  discovered  at  a  glance  that  every  desirable  event  had  been 
the  result  of  his  doing  what  he  inwardly  felt  he  should  do,  while  every 
undesirable  event  had  been  the  result  of  his  doing  what  friends  or 
circumstances  had  suggested. 

Now  he  had  the  secret  at  last,  and  for  the  first  time  in  his  life 
he  felt  that  his  future  was  completely  in  his  own  hands.  Then  he 
remembered  again  having  read  somewhere,  "do  what  your  heart-felt 
judgment  prompts  you  to  do,  and  permit  neither  circumstances  nor 
men  to  interfere  with  your  decision." 

For  a  long  time  he  contemplated  the  possibilities  of  such  a  course 
of  action.  Then  suddenly  the  full  significance  of  it  all  took  complete 
possession  of  his  mind,  and  as  it  did  so,  he  rose  and  became  as  one 
endued  with  superhuman  power.  "Come  whatever  may,"  he  declared 
to  his  own  soul,  "no  power  upon  earth  can  tempt  me  to  turn  from  the 
one  path  I  have  chosen  for  my  life.  Henceforth  I  shall  live,  think  and 
work  for  the  two  supreme  ambitions  of  my  life;  and  for  those  two 
alone,  regardless  of  gain  or  loss,  regardless  of  suffering  or  joy.  This 
shall  be  my  one  course  every  moment  of  my  existence,  and  nothing 
in  creation  can  make  me  change." 

With  these  words  he  felt  that  at  last  he  was  absolutely  free.  All 
the  fetters  had  been  broken,  all  the  bonds  removed.  The  weakling  in 
his  nature  had  completely  disappeared  and  the  strong  man  had  come 
forth  instead.  He  had  felt  the  mighty  power  of  his  real  nature  many 
times  before,  but  now  he  realized  that  he  possessed  that  power,  and 


The   Will   and   The   Way  79 

the  experience  was  such  as  no  tongue  or  pen  can  ever  describe.  One 
moment  in  such  a  realization  seemed  equal  to  a  thousand  ages  of 
pleasure,  and  as  he  continued  to  enjoy  the  glory  of  it  all,  something 
within  him  seemed  to  say  that  the  turning  of  the  tide  was  at  hand. 
He  seemed  to  be  living  in  pure  light,  and  it  seemed  that  through  that 
light  he  could  clearly  discern  that  the  long-expected  change  was  about 
to  transpire.  These  tidings  from  the  soul  brought  perfect  tranquility 
to  his  mind,  and  as  he  retired,  sweet,  refreshing  sleep  came  speedily. 

The  next  morning  there  was  a  decided  reaction  in  his  mind  and 
everything  seemed  dark  again.  What  to  do  that  day  he  hardly  knew. 
He  had  occupied  several  temporary  positions  during  the  past  month, 
but  had  nothing  at  present.  He  did  not  feel  in  condition,  however, 
to  search  for  anything  in  such  a  state  of  mind,  so  therefore  made  no 
plans  for  the  day.  But  he  felt  a  strange  desire  during  the  latter  part 
of  the  forenoon  to  go  down  into  the  city,  and  as  this  desire  became 
very  strong,  he  started  off  at  once,  determined  henceforth  to  follow 
his  own  deepest  inclinations,  no  matter  where  such  inclinations  might 
lead.  Upon  reaching  one  of  the  principal  streets  in  the  busy  shopping 
district,  he  turned  down  one  of  the  side  streets,  where  the  throng  was 
not  so  great.  He  did  this  because  he  wanted  to,  though  he  did  not 
know  until  later  why  he  wanted  to  get  away  from  the  throng  at  that 
particular  time,  as  he  always  enjoyed  himself  the  best  when  he  was 
in  the  midst  of  a  dense  crowd. 

After  having  walked  on  for  less  than  a  block,  he  passed  the 
entrance  to  one  of  the  principal  banks,  and  as  he  did  so  he  saw  Lillian 
Strong  coming  down  the  broad  stairway.  At  her  side  was  a  middle- 
aged  gentleman,  whom  anyone  would  recognize  at  first  sight  as  a  lead 
ing  figure  in  the  commercial  world.  Seeing  Mr.  Reardon,  she  motioned 
for  him  to  wait. 

"Mr.  Reardon  is  the  most  ambitious  man  in  the  world,"  was 
almost  the  first  remark  Miss  Strong  made  as  she  introduced  the  two 
gentlemen. 

"Then  this  is  a  most  happy  meeting,"  the  financier  replied.  "I 
have  been  looking  for  such  a  young  man  for  a  number  of  years.  You 
might  be  curious  to  know  the  reason  why,  thought  it  is  too  long  a  story 
to  be  told  here  on  the  street.  Besides,  it  is  a  secret  and  can  be  told 
to  a  chosen  few  only." 

"I  should  be  delighted  to  hear  it,"  Mr.  Reardon  answered  him  as 
he  tried  to  suppress  a  mingled  sensation  of  enthusiasm  and  tender 
emotions  now  welling  up  within  him. 

"You  are  the  first  man  to  be  told.  Come  and  see  me  tomorrow. 
Be  ready  to  tell  me  what  you  wish  to  do  and  we  shall  find  a  way  to 
have  it  done.  I  am  a  good  judge  of  men.  Your  appearance  indicates 
that  you  possess  great  ambition,  and  your  voice  indicates  that  you  have 
the  power  to  carry  your  ambitions  through.  Come  tomorrow  at  one." 
With  these  words  the  great  money  king  excused  himself  and  went 
on.  But  as  Mr.  Reardon,  his  eyes  becoming  moist  with  tears  he  could 
not  suppress,  turned  to  escort  Miss  Strong  to  her  carriage  a  few  paces 
away,  there  was  another  surprise  in  store. 


80  The  Will   and   The  Way 

"Why,  here  comes  Mr.  Warren,"  he  declared,  with  a  tone  of  great 
surprise.  "I  know  you  would  like  to  meet  him,"  he  said,  turning  to 
Miss  Strong. 

"Indeed,  I  should,"  she  replied  with  emphasis,  as  she  turned  to 
shake  hands  with  this  other  young  man  of  wonderful  dreams;  and  the 
meeting  proved  to  be  an  agreeable  surprise  to  both.  When  their  eyes 
met,  Mr.  Reardon  thought  he  saw  unmistakable  signs  of  the  fact  that 
it  was  the  meeting  of  two  souls,  who,  for  the  first  time,  had  found 
each  other. 

"I  have  heard  that  you  are  planning  to  inaugurate  a  great  move 
ment,  Mr.  Warren,"  she  said. 

"Yes,"  he  replied  with  a  deep  determined  tone,  "a  new  move 
ment  for  the  promotion  of  human  welfare  all  over  the  world." 

'I  have  dreamed  of  something  similar,"  she  replied  with  enthu 
siasm,  "and  I  should  be  happy,  indeed,  to  find  that  you  are  the  man 
to  carry  it  out." 

"I  am  the  man  to  carry  it  out.  No  power  in  the  universe  can 
stand  in  my  way,  and  I  know  I  shall  secure  everything  necessary  to 
perfect  my  plans.  This  is  my  faith,  and  in  that  faith  1  am  going  to 
work." 

She  looked  at  him  as  she  had  never  looked  at  a  man  before,  and 
as  she  did  so  a  great  light  came  into  her  mind.  In  the  past  she  had 
hoped  and  questioned.  Now  she  knew.  The  two  young  men  quickly 
discerned  the  change  in  her  countenance.  The  one  observed  the 
change  wtih  great  admiration,  the  other  with  a  love  that  seemed  almost 
uncontrollable.  But  both  had  the  same  thought  at  the  time.  Both 
inquired  inwardly,  "Was  there  ever  a  woman  more  beautiful?" 

"Mr.  Warren,"  she  resumed  calmly  and  tenderly,  "will  you 
kindly  reveal  your  plans  to  me?  I  never  was  so  deeply  attracted 
to  anything  in  my  life  before.  The  very  thought  of  it  stirs  my  soul 
to  its  very  greatest  depths  and  makes  me  feel  as  if  something  extra 
ordinary  was  going  to  happen." 

"I  feel  exactly  as  you  do,"  he  said,  "when  I  think  of  it,  and  1  want 
to  tell  you  everything.  You,  I  know,  will  understand." 

"And  it  is  a  matter  that  is  too  important  to  be  delayed  an  hour," 
she  replied,  with  deep  earnestness;  "kindly  enter  my  carriage  and  we 
will  drive  to  my  home  at  once.  There  are  times  when  formalities  are 
obstacles  to  human  good,  and  this  is  one  of  those  times." 

The  couple  departed,  and  Mr.  Reardon,  as  he  went  on  his  own 
way,  hoped  that  he  would  meet  no  one  during  the  remainder  of  that 
day,  for  his  thoughts  were  far  beyond  the  world  of  human  speech. 

XV 

There  was  nothing  on  the  door  but  simply  "Hadley  &  Co." 
That  was  all;  but  those  few  words  spoke  volumes  to  Melville  Reardon. 

What  would  he  learn  when  he  went  inside?  What  would  the 
great  financier  say  after  hearing  his  story?  What  proposition  would 
that  man  make?  Would  he  offer  anything,  or  would  he  simply  look 
upon  it  all  as  a  beautiful  dream?  These  were  the  uppermost  questions 
in  Mr.  Reardon's  mind,  and  they  did  not  move  slowly  nor  leisurely 


The   Will   and   The   Way  81 

among  the  clamoring  elements  of  his  other  thoughts.  What  would  the 
answer  be?  Had  the  turning  of  the  tide  come  at  last?  Soon  he  would 
know.  It  was  one  o'clock,  and  it  was  now  his  privilege  to  walk  in. 
But  as  he  extended  his  hand  to  turn  the  knob  in  the  door,  another 
question  arose  in  his  mind. 

He  had  never  before  told  his  secret  ambitions — his  other  ambition 
— to  anyone;  and  he  had  always  promised  that  "the  one  woman" 
should  be  the  first  to  learn  that  life-long  secret  of  his  soul.  What 
should  he  do?  He  must  speak  of  this  other  ambition  today,  and  even 
give  explicit  details,  or  the  interview  would  be  of  no  avail.  For  a 
moment  he  hesitated  to  go  in;  but  presently  he  felt  a  deep  joyousness 
in  his  soul,  and  that  feeling  had  always  indicated  that  everything  was 
all  right.  It  was  a  sign  that  had  never  failed  him  in  the  past;  and  as 
there  was  no  reason  why  it  should  fail  him  now,  he  decided  to  obey. 
He  would  walk  in  without  delay,  and  if  he  was  called  upon  to  fully 
explain  his  other  ambition  he  would  do  so. 

Opening  the  door  he  found  himself  in  a  most  luxurious  waiting 
room,  and  face  to  face  with  a  woman.  As  he  entered  she  arose,  and 
the  eyes  of  the  two  met — and  exchanged  that  beautiful  but  mysterious 
something  that  has  always  been  too  eloquent  for  speech. 

For  several  minutes  those  two  pairs  of  eyes  looked  into  the  depths 
of  two  souls — and  knew.  No  words  were  spoken,  and  all  surroundings, 
for  the  time  being,  seemed  void  of  existence. 

The  first  thought  that  arose  in  Mr.  Reardon's  mind  was  "the  one 
woman."  le  was  she.  He  did  not  question;  he  did  not  wonder;  he 
knew.  And  the  realization  of  this  brought  him  back  to  the  conscious 
ness  of  where  he  was.  This  made  words  necessary,  but  his  usual 
timidity  coupled  with  the  strange  embarrassment  of  the  situation  were 
not  conducive  to  the  immediate  flow  of  ready  speech;  and  it  was  with 
great  effort,  much  hesitation — and  many  blushes — that  he  finally  suc 
ceeded  in  saying  anything. 

"I  was  to  come  here  at  one,"  he  began. 

"Yes,  I  know,"  she  replied  before  he  could  finish  his  remark. 
"You  have  an  engagement  with  my  uncle." 

"Yes,"  he  said;  "though  I  did  not  know  that  he  was  your  uncle," 
he  added,  hardly  knowing  what  to  say. 

"Yes,  he  is,  but  he  won't  be  able  to  see  you  for  an  hour.  Can 
you  wait?" 

"I  can  wait  any  length  of  time.  In  fact,  I  cannot  possibly  leave 
until  I  see  him." 

"Then  be  seated,  will  you  not,  and  I  shall  try  to  help  you  make 
the  time  seem  less  than  what  it  really  is." 

"Nothing  could  give" — but  he  did  not  finish  his  sentence.  What 
he  wanted  to  say  could  not  be  said  as  yet;  and  he  realized  that  fact 
in  time. 

"I  mean  I  shall  be  most  happy  to  be  entertained  in  such  a  man 
ner,"  he  resumed,  correcting  himself;  "but  may  I  first  have  the  pleas 
ure  to  know  to  whom  I  am  speaking?  My  name  is  Melville  Reardon." 


82  The  Will   and  The  Way 

"And  my  name  is  Marguerite  Romaine,"  she  replied,  extending 
her  hand. 

He  took  her  hand  in  his,  and  again  their  eyes  met  in  that  same 
mysterious  manner.  For  many  minutes  they  stood  as  if  entranced, 
their  souls  too  full  of  the  greatest  joy  in  the  world  to  think  of  else  but 
that  one  joy. 

"My  uncle  told  me  that  you  were  the  most  ambitious  man  in  the 
world,"  she  began,  after  what  seemed  to  be  an  eternity  of  bliss  had 
completed  its  circle. 

"That  is  what  my  friends  tell  me;  and  I  can  hardly  understand 
how  anyone  could  possibly  be  more  ambitious." 

"And  did  you  know  that  that  was  the  reason  why  you  were  in 
vited  to  come  here  today?" 

"No,  I  did  not.  I  knew  that  that  fact  gave  occasion  to  the  invita 
tion,  but  1  did  not  know  that  it  was  the  only  reason." 

"That,  however,  is  the  truth,  Mr.  Reardon." 

"And  will  you  kindly  explain?" 

"Yes,  but  let  us  be  seated  first.  I  will  explain,  providing  you 
will  tell  me  what  you  are  so  ambitious  to  gain  or  become." 

"Yes,  that  I  will  do  gladly,"  he  replied,  knowing  that  now,  for  the 
first  time  in  his  life  he  could  speak  freely.  He  was  speaking  to  her, 
and  he  could  tell  everything. 

"I  have  two  leading  ambitions,"  he  continued;  "and  these  have 
been  with  me  almost  as  long  as  I  can  remember.  They  are  so  tremen 
dously  strong  that  they  seem  to  dominate  my  very  life;  and  every 
thing  that  1  ever  attempted  to  do  that  was  contrary  to  their  supreme 
desires  has  been  spoiled  in  the  doing.  Whenever  1  have  begun  to  act 
contrary  to  these  ambitions,  something  has  always  come  in  the  way." 

"And  what  were  they,  please?"  she  asked,  her  whole  life  on 
tiptoe  with  expectation. 

"Early  in  life  I  saw,  with  my  mind's  eye,  the  picture  of  a  woman 
that  1  knew  at  the  time  to  be  'the  woman;'  and  one  of  my  ambitions 
has  been  to  meet  that  woman — and  win  her  love." 

"And  have  you  met  her?"  she  asked,  as  every  atom  in  her  being 
trembled  with  her  intense  desire  for  the  answer. 

But  he  did  not  reply  at  once.  Instead,  he  unconsciously  turned 
towards  her,  moved  by  some  power  he  could  not  control — possibly 
the  same  power  that  had  made  his  ambitions  so  persistent  and  so 
strong. 

Again  their  eyes  met.  Again  they  were  speechless.  Again  they 
were  entranced  in  the  ecstasy  of  bliss.  And  she  knew  the  answer. 

"Yes,  I  have  met  her,"  he  continued;  "the  great  day  is  here.  I 
have  met  her — now." 

For  a  time  they  were  both  silent.  She,  with  drooping  eyes,  in 
deep  thought;  and  he,  with  eyes  filled  with  the  soul  of  adoration,  wor 
shiping  as  he  alone  can  worship  who  knows  he  has  found  his  own. 

"And  what  was  your  other  ambition?"  she  asked  presently,  but 
with  a  desire  that  seemed  less  intense,  as  her  greatest  desire  had  been 
realized. 


The   Will   and   The   Way  83 

"I  have  promised  myself  from  the  beginning,"  he  replied  quietly 
and  seriously,  "that  I  should  first  tell  her." 

"Then,  can  you  tell  me?"  she  exclaimed,  her  soul  aflame  once 
more,  yearning  to  be  assured  again  that  she  was  "the  one  woman." 

"Yes,  I  can,  and  to  know  that  I  can  gives  me  more  joy  than  a 
million  heavens  could  possibly  contain.  But  I  must  begin  at  once  so 
that  I  can  fulfill  my  promise  to  myself — to  tell  her  first." 

She  listened  intently  as  he  explained  everything,  as  he  outlined 
in  detail  the  many  intricate  principles  and  ideas  of  his  wonderful  plan; 
and  as  he  finished  his  fascinating  story  to  her — she  sprang  to  her  feet 
and  exclaimed:  "Your  friends  say  that  you  are  the  most  ambitious  man 
in  the  world,  but  they  have  not  spoken  a  millionth  part  of  the  truth. 
You  are  the  greatest  man  in  the  world.  Only  the  greatest  man  could 
conceive  of  such  an  idea,  perfect  such  a  plan,  nourish  such  an  ambition. 
Yes,"  she  repeated,  her  face  beaming  with  a  loveliness  that  no  man 
had  ever  looked  upon  before,  "you  are  the  greatest  man  in  the  world, 
and  I  am — she." 

"Come,"  she  continued;  "listen.  Now  I  will  tell  you  why  you 
were  invited  here  today.  I  have  also  had  an  ambition — not  two,  but 
one.  It  has  always  been  my  ambition  to  meet  the  most  ambitious  man 
in  the  world.  And  my  promise  has  been  to  myself  never  to  look  into 
the  eyes  of  any  other  man.  Some  years  ago  I  told  this  secret  to  my 
uncle,  and  ever  since  he  has  been  looking  for  the  most  ambitious  man. 
But  he  never  found  him  until  yesterday,  and  that  is  why  you  were  in 
vited  here  today.  And  now  that  we  understand  each  other,  we  will 
go  into  the  other  room  so  you  may  tell  my  uncle  of  your  wonderful 
plan." 

"Now  tell  me  what  you  want  to  do,  Mr.  Reardon,"  the  great 
financier  began,  as  the  three  had  been  seated  about  a  small  round 
table.  "I  am  looking  for  something  extraordinary,"  he  added;  "so 
naturally  I  am  all  attention." 

Having  received  such  unbounded  appreciation  for  his  plans  from 
Marguerite,  Mr.  Reardon  had  gained  more  confidence  in  his  ambition 
that  he  ever  had  before — and  that  confidence  was  practically  limitless 
— therefore  he  felt  ready  to  proceed  without  hesitation,  regardless  of 
the  fact  that  every  idea  presented  would  be  scrutinized  most  closely 
by  a  man  who  could  detect  flaws  with  almost  unerring  precision. 

He  stated  his  case  clearly  and  thoroughly,  giving  his  reasons  for 
everything,  and  explaining  in  detail  how  he  expected  his  plan  to  work 
out  in  practical  action.  When  he  was  through,  there  was  nothing  more 
to  ask,  and  every  doubt  that  might  have  arisen  in  the  beginning  as  to 
the  feasibility  of  his  plan  was  dispelled  completely. 

"That  is  my  ambition,"  he  said  as  he  had  told  his  story  for  the 
second  time  that  afternoon;  "that  is  what  I  wish  to  do;  that  is  what  I 
must  do;  that  is  what  I  will  do,  and  nothing  in  the  world  can  stand  in 
my  way." 

"Nothing  will  want  to  stand  in  your  way,"  Mr.  Hadley  exclaimed, 
and  the  power  of  his  enthusiasm  was  so  strong  that  everything  in  the 
room  seemed  to  tremble  from  the  force  of  his  voice. 


84 The  Will   and   The  Way 

"Mr.  Reardon,"  he  continued,  "do  you  know  what  the  world  will 
say  when  they  hear  of  this  plan?  I  will  tell  you.  Be  prepared  for  it, 
and  remember  what  I  say.  You  will  be  looked  upon  as  the  greatest 
man  in  the  world.  You  will  be  honored  as  none  are  honored  today. 
You  will  be  received  everywhere  in  preference  to  the  greatest  kings 
and  the  most  powerful  monarchs.  You  will  stand  away  above  them 
all,  but  you  will  stand  precisely  where  you  deserve  to  stand." 

For  a  moment  they  were  all  silent,  and  then  Mr.  Reardon  remem 
bered  what  Mrs.  Whiting  had  said  about  "monarchs"  when  he  met  her 
the  first  time.  And  he  silently  whispered  to  himself:  "How  interest 
ing  it  will  be  to  understand  the  mystery  of  it  all." 

"Nothing  but  a  wonderful  mind,  an  extraordinary  mind,  a  truly 
great  mind,"  continued  Mr.  Hadley,  "could  possibly  conceive  of  such 
an  idea  or  work  out  such  a  plan." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Hadley;  thank  you  a  million  times  for  your 
kind  appreciation,"  Mr.  Reardon  replied,  almost  choking  with  emo 
tion;  "but  do  you  know,"  he  added  with  animation,  "that  when  you 
are  intensely  ambitious  to  do  a  certain  thing,  the  force  of  that  ambition 
will  build  up  your  mind  more  and  more  until  you  become  great  enough 
to  do  it?" 

"No,  that  is  a  new  thought  to  me.      But  it  looks  sound." 

"It  is  sound,  Mr.  Hadley.  And  if  you  will  investigate  you  will 
find  the  evidence  in  its  favor  to  be  overwhelming." 

"Yes,  that  looks  all  right.  And  if  it  is  true,  it  is  one  of  the  greatest 
discoveries  that  was  ever  made.  But  tell  me,  Mr.  Reardon,  did  you 
perfect  your  plan  in  the  beginning,  or  did  you  perfect  it  gradually?" 

"At  first  I  had  only  some  vague  ideas,  with  no  definite  plan  as  to 
their  application;  but  I  became  ambitious  to  perfect  those  ideas  and 
apply  them.  Then  I  found  that  the  more  ambitious  I  became,  the 
stronger  became  the  force  of  my  ambition;  and  as  my  ambition  grew 
my  ideas  became  clearer.  Then  my  mind  reached  a  point  where  it 
gained  the  power  to  conceive  a  plan  for  the  application  of  these  ideas; 
and  from  that  time  on,  I  knew  definitely  what  I  wanted  to  do.  But 
the  next  step  was  to  find  a  way  to  get  my  plan  and  my  work  before  the 
world.  I  tried  several  years  to  find  that  way.  The  reason  1  failed  was 
because  the  force  of  my  ambition  had  not  developed  all  the  essentials 
to  real  success.  Now,  however,  I  am  convinced  that  this  has  been 
done,  and  there  is  no  reason  for  further  delay." 

"I  see  very  clearly,  Mr.  Reardon,  that  you  are  an  excellent  exam 
ple  of  what  you  have  said  concerning  the  force  of  ambition,  and  its 
power  to  make  a  man  great  enough  to  realize  his  ambition,  and  as  I 
think  of  it,  I  can  think  of  almost  any  number  of  similar  examples. 
Though  the  reason,  I  suppose,  that  you  have  developed  such  a  mar 
velous  mind  is  because  the  force  of  your  ambition  was  stronger  than 
that  of  the  others.  You  have  been  more  ambitious  than  the  rest." 

"But  any  man  can  be  more  ambitious  than  I  am." 

"Possibly  so.  That  is  a  matter,  however,  that  each  man  is  at 
liberty  to  prove.  We  need  not  discuss  it  further  just  now.  The  next 


The   Will   and   The   Way  85 

move  for  us  is  to  get  your  plan  before  the  world.  And  do  you  know, 
Mr.  Reardon,  that  there  are  millions  in  it?" 

"1  always  knew  there  was.  Though  the  fact  that  it  will  add  so 
richly  to  the  welfare  and  the  happiness  of  the  world  is  of  more  impor 
tance  to  me." 

"You  could  not  think  otherwise,  my  boy.  It  is  in  you  to  feel  that 
way.  And  that  is  the  principal  reason  why  the  world  will  love  you 
so  well.  Those  who  do  great  things  for  gain  will  soon  be  forgotten, 
but  those  who  do  great  things  because  they  have  human  good  at  heart 
can  never  be  forgotten  so  long  as  there  is  a  single  soul  alive.  But 
coming  down  to  the  practical  side  of  the  matter,  any  capitalist  would 
give  you  several  million  dollars  for  a  part  interest  in  your  plan.  I  will 
give  you  five  million  for  a  half  interest  and  close  the  transaction  today. 
Though  if  you  wish  to  wait  for  a  larger  offer,  do  so.  You  are  almost 
certain  to  get  it." 

"No,  Mr.  Hadley,  I  want  you  to  be  with  me  in  this  great  work. 
There  are  many  reasons;  and  one  of  them  is" — but  he  said  no  more. 
His  eyes  were  upon  his  beautiful  Marguerite,  and  the  great  financier 
understood. 

"What  is  the  first  thing  you  want  to  do?"  Mr.  Hadley  inquired, 
as  they  were  all  preparing  to  go  home. 

"It  will  be  necessary,"  Mr.  Reardon  replied,  "for  me  to  visit  sev 
eral  of  the  largest  cities  of  this  country.  This  tour  will  require  three 
or  four  months.  When  I  return,  I  will  have  everything  we  need,  and 
the  work  can  begin." 

"Do  you  intend  to  go  alone?"  Mr.  Hadley  inquired  with  a  tone 
of  suspicion  in  his  voice. 

"I  would  rather  not,"  said  Mr.  Reardon  as  he  turned  again  to 
Marguerite.  And  as  he  beheld  those  deep  brown  eyes,  so  full  of  ten 
derness  and  soul,  he  knew  he  would  not  go  alone. 


XVI 

"Tell  me  all  you  know,  Mrs.  Whiting.  What  has  happened 
since  I've  been  gone?" 

"Almost  everything  that  you  can  think  of,  Mr.  Reardon." 

"And  where  is  Cyril  Janos?" 

"Nobody  knows.  He  has  gone  into  seclusion  in  some  Western 
city  for  the  purpose  of  conducting  several  thousand  psychological  ex 
periments.  He  made  a  remarkable  discovery  in  chemistry  about  six 
months  ago,  and  he  recently  sold  it  for  a  half  a  million  dollars.  With 
that  money  he  is  going  to  devote  three  or  four  years  to  experiments. 
His  object  is  to  demonstrate  exactly  the  effect  of  every  thought  and 
emotion  upon  the  human  body.  When  he  is  through  he  says  he  will 
be  able  to  tell  precisely  what  thoughts  to  think  to  stay  well,  what 
thoughts  to  think  to  stay  young  and  what  thoughts  to  think  to  produce 
any  desired  condition  in  the  body." 

"Wonderful!" 

"Oh,  but  I  am  interested  in  that,"  declared  Marguerite. 


86 The   Will   and   The  Way 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Whiting,  "we  are  all  interested — intensely  so, 
and  when  Cyril  Janos  comes  back  he  will  bring  what  he  promised." 

"Indeed,  he  will,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Whiting.  "He  was  here  the 
evening  before  he  went  away,  and  he  told  us  a  great  deal  about  the 
different  experiments  he  intends  to  conduct.  But  it  was  a  feast  to 
listen  to  him.  1  have  never  heard  anything  so  fascinating  in  my  life." 

"I  wish  1  could  have  been  present,"  said  Mr.  Reardon  thought 
fully.  "We  shall  never  forget  Cyril  Janos.  No,  not  in  millions  of 
years.  What  he  has  done  for  us  can  never  be  told." 

"True,"  replied  Mr.  Whiting,  "but  wait  till  he  returns.  He  is 
going  to  give  the  results  of  his  experiments — everything — to  the  daily 
press.  Then  we  shall  all  know  what  the  power  of  mind  over  body 
really  means." 

"It  will  mean  a  new  age,  will  it  not?"  said  Marguerite,  her  soulful 
eyes  giving  expression  to  a  thousand  times  more  than  her  tongue  could 
tell. 

"And  that  reminds  me  of  the  greatest  book  of  the  year,"  resumed 
Mrs.  Whiting,  "or  more  truthfully,  the  greatest  book  of  modern  times, 
'The  Vision  of  the  Soul.'  Of  course  everybody  has  read  it." 

"Yes,  Marguerite  and  1  have  not  only  read  the  book,"  exclaimed 
Mr.  Reardon,  with  his  usual  enthusiasm,  "but  we  have  met  the  author." 

"Oh,  have  you,  indeed?  Tell  me  about  him,  and  I  will  tell  you 
something — something  that  will  be  real  news — the  very  best  of  news." 

"Thank  you,  Mrs.  Whiting,  I  certainly  shall,  if  you  mean  to  recip 
rocate  so  generously.  But  he  is  a  splendid  man;  a  wonderful  man.  1 
would  call  him  perfect  in  body,  mind  and  soul.  Handsome  and  bril 
liant.  And  much  more.  He  has  found  those  finer  things  in  life  that 
we  have  talked  about  so  many  times;  and  he  shows  it  in  his  personality, 
in  his  conduct,  in  every  movement  he  makes,  in  everything  he  says  or 
does." 

"I  am  so  glad,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Whiting,  every  atom  in  her  being 
alive  with  attention. 

"There  is  only  one  fault  that  his  friends  find  with  him,"  said 
Marguerite. 

"And  what  is  that,  please?" 

"They  say  he  lives  too  much  in  the  clouds.     They  say,  for  that  rea 
son,  he  will  never  do  things. 

"And  they  call  that  a  fault.  They  are  not  friends.  They  are 
simply  acquaintances.  But  how  old  is  he?" 

"Twenty-four." 

"Only  twenty-four,  and  has  already  written  that  remarkable  book 
— a  book  that  is  selling  so  fast  that  his  publishers  are  months  behind 
in  their  orders.  And  he  will  never  do  things.  He  has  done  more 
already  than  all  of  those  acquaintances  put  together." 

"You  are  right,  Mrs.  Whiting — Melville  tells  me  you  always  are 
— those  are  my  views  in  the  matter  exactly.  But  people  as  a  rule  don't 
think  that  anyone  can  make  money  who  lives  in  the  clouds." 

"I  know  they  do,  but  I  would  rather  live  in  the  clouds  on  ten 
dollars  a  week  than  be  a  mere  animal  man  at  a  million  a  year." 


The   Will   and   The   Way  87 

! 

"Splendidly  stated,  Mrs.  Whiting,  splendidly  stated,"  exclaimed 
Marguerite.  "Oh,  but  I  am  going  to  love  you,"  she  added  as  she 
sprang  to  Mrs.  Whiting's  side  and  embraced  her  vigorously. 

"I  agree,"  began  Mr.  Whiting  in  his  calm  but  powerful  tone. 
"But  there  is  another  side  to  the  question.  There  are  some  people 
living  in  the  clouds  who  never  do  things  and  who  never  gain  things. 
Not  all,  however,  are  in  that  position.  People  who  live  in  the  clouds 
usually  secure  the  best  that  there  is  upon  earth,  and  especially  when 
they  keep  close  watch  on  everything  taking  place  upon  earth." 

"That  solves  the  matter,"  declared  Mr.  Reardon.  "Have  your 
home  in  the  clouds,  but  have  your  workshop  a  little  farther  down." 

"And  now  may  we  have  that  extra  good  news?"  asked  Mar 
guerite. 

"You  may.  Adeline  is  engaged.  Her  own  has  come.  And 
who  do  you  think  he  is  ?  The  very  man  we  have  been  talking  about. 
The  man  who  wrote  'The  Vision  of  the  Soul.'  Their  wedding  day  is 
near  at  hand." 

"Thank  God!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Reardon.  "Oh,  but  I  should  like 
to  shout  for  joy.  Splendid  news,  Mrs.  Whiting.  Splendid  news. 
What  an  ideal  couple.  They  are  exactly  made  for  each  other.  And 
that  they  should  meet.  Wonderful!  Wonderful!  That's  the  name 
for  it." 

"Yes,  I  wrote  to  Adeline  yesterday  that  Mr.  Whiting  and  myself 
would  have  the  rare  pleasure  to  entertain  a  bride  and  groom  tonight — 
Mr.  Reardon  and  his  adorable  Marguerite.  And  now  I  must  write  her 
again  and  tell  her  what  you  have  said.  Oh,  but  it  will  make  her 
happy." 

"And  she  deserves  all  the  happiness  that  comes  to  her,"  Mr. 
Reardon  mused  thoughtfully.  "Though  she  will  want  for  nothing  in 
that  respect.  But  then  that  is  true  of  us  all.  Some  great  changes 
have  taken  place,  have  they  not,  Mr.  Whiting,  since  first  we  met?" 

"Yes,  I  frequently  think  of  it,  but  I  seldom  say  much  about  it, 
for  words  are  wholly  inadequate.  All  I  can  say  is,  we  have  found 
the  way,  and  it  works." 

"True,"  said  Mrs.  Whiting  quietly,  "it  has  worked  wonderfully 
in  our  circle  of  friends.  Not  one  exception  to  the  rule.  They  have 
all  realized  much,  and  they  are  all  on  the  way  to  realize  more." 

"Tell  us  about  Mildred,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Reardon.  "Did  she 
find  the  best  man  in  the  world?" 

"She  did.  She  is  now  Mrs.  Chesterton,  and  you  could  not  possi 
bly  find  a  happier  woman." 

"But  it  was  wonderful  how  she  changed  after  she  became  your 
friend,  Mrs.  Whiting.  She  looked  like  a  wilted  flower  at  first;  and 
then  within  a  few  months  she  looked  like  a  highly-bred  rose  in  full 
bloom." 

"Yes,  it  was  wonderful;  though  any  girl  who  would  be  just  as 
apt  a  pupil  as  Mildred  could  do  the  same." 

"I  believe  that,  Mrs.  Whiting,  if  you  were  the  teacher." 


88 The   Will   and   The   Way 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Reardon.  But  anyone  can  teach  as  well  as  I 
do  if  their  desire  to  live  what  they  know  is  just  as  strong  as  their  desire 
to  impart  what  they  know." 

"How  beautiful  and  how  true,"  declared  Marguerite.  "But  tell 
us  more  about  Mildred." 

"I  will  do  better  than  that.  I  will  have  you  meet  her  very  soon. 
Then  after  you  have  met  her  1  will  ask  her  to  show  you  one  of  her 
last  year's  pictures.  You  would  never  believe  it  was  the  same  girl." 

"And  what  was  it  principally  that  produced  the  transformation?" 

"It  was  the  new  philosophy  of  life  in  general,  and  the  sweetly 
expressive  smile  in  particular.  Mildred  is  always  singing  in  her  soul, 
'How  soon  a  smile  of  God  can  change  the  world ;'  and  she  has  entered 
so  beautifully  into  that  smile  that  she  actually  looks  like  that  smile.  All 
her  friends  call  her  the  smile  of  God,  and  that  is  exactly  what  she  is." 

"Then  she  must  have  more  friends  than  she  can  number." 

"That  is  literally  the  truth.  And  what  is  so  beautiful,  all  her 
friends  are  fast  becoming  as  sweet  as  she.  They  are  becoming  so 
imbued  with  the  sunshine  of  her  soul  that  they  actually  reflect  the 
same  wonderful  smile.  You  will  love  her,  Marguerite.  Oh,  but  she 
is  a  jewel." 

"Excuse  me  for  changing  the  subject,"  interrupted  Mr.  Reardon, 
"but  do  you  know  what  Mr.  Warren  has  accomplished?" 

"To  begin  with,  he  married  Lillian  Strong,  which  was  a  small 
feat  by  no  means.  Lillian  would  not  have  an  ordinary  man.  She 
wanted  someone  who  could  make  history,  and  she  realized  her  wish. 
Mr.  Warren  has  already  inaugurated  his  great  movement,  and  as  he  is 
fully  competent  to  carry  it  through,  his  work  will  soon  be  felt  in  nearly 
every  home  in  the  civilized  world." 

"1  am  convinced,"  Mr.  Whiting  added,  "that  he  will  accomplish 
more  in  ten  years  than  all  reform  movements  and  all  philanthropic 
endeavors  combined  could  accomplish  in  five  centuries.  And  my 
reason  for  such  a  far-reaching  statement  is  that  Mr.  Warren  will  aim 
to  remove  the  cause  of  social  ills.  His  movement  will  not  waste  cen 
turies  of  time  and  barrels  of  gold  trying  to  appease  the  effects  while 
the  causes  still  remain.  And  I  also  wish  to  say  that  his  method  for 
removing  the  cause  of  human  ills  is  effective.  It  has  been  tried  and  it 
works." 

"There  is  no  doubt  about  that,"  replied  Mr.  Reardon.  "And  Mr. 
Warren  can  praise  the  day  he  had  his  first  and  only  argument  with 
Mrs.  Whiting.  Do  you  realize,  Mrs.  Whiting,  what  you  are  doing 
upon  this  planet?  Have  you  ever  tried  to  measure  with  your  mind 
the  amount  of  happiness  you  have  already  created?  The  thought  of 
it  must  make  you  weep  for  joy  every  day  of  your  life." 

"No,  1  never  think  of  it.  If  you  would  do  the  greatest  good 
and  have  the  greatest  joy,  do  what  you  can  at  all  times  and  in  all 
places.  Then  forget  what  you  have  done  by  giving  your  whole  at 
tention  to  the  doing  of  something  still  better." 

"Oh,    but   your   sentiments   are    so   beautiful,    Mrs.    Whiting,    and 


The  Will   and   The  Way  39 

your  thoughts  so  lofty  and  strong.  How  I  wish  that  I  could  think 
those  same  wonderful  thoughts." 

"But  you  can,  Marguerite;  and  the  very  fact  that  you  desire 
such  thoughts  proves  that  you  have  a  mind  that  is  ready  to  give  them 
expression." 

"I  am  so  glad  to  hear  you  say  that.  To  think  great  thoughts 
and  beautiful  thoughts  has  been  one  of  my  most  cherished  desires 
ever  since  I  was  a  little  girl." 

"Then  you  will  realize  your  desire.  You  know  you  are  yet  a 
very  young  girl.  You  are  just  beginning  real  life." 

"Yes,  I  am  only  twenty,  but  I  feel  as  if  I  have  lived  many  times 
as  long  as  that." 

"That  proves  that  you  are  a  great  soul,  Marguerite.  All  great 
souls  live  many  years  in  one." 

"Thank  you,  Mrs.  Whiting,  I  want  to  be  true  to  my  dreams. 
That  is  the  only  way,  is  it  not?" 

"Yes,  it  is.  Be  true  to  the  dream,  and  the  dream  will  come 
true." 

"Beautiful,  again.     Wonderful!" 

"And  I  am  thinking  this  very  minute  of  a  man,"  said  Mr.  Whit 
ing,  "who  would  agree  most  decidedly  with  that  splendid  statement." 

"You  are  thinking  of  Mr.  Spaulding,  are  you  not?"  inquired 
Reardon. 

"I  am.  His  is  another  name  that  will  go  down  in  history.  He 
had  a  dream,  or  what  some  would  call  an  idea,  that  was  too  intan 
gible  to  be  practicable.  But  he  was  true  to  that  dream,  and  the 
dream  came  true." 

"Have  you  any  idea,  Mr.  Whiting,  what  his  invention  is  worth?" 

"No,  I  have  not.  He  has  been  offered  fabulous  sums  for  the 
patent,  but  he  will  not  dispose  of  it.  He  wishes  to  retain  control  of 
its  manufacture  and  sale  so  that  the  consumer  may  be  benefited  to 
the  fullest  extent.  You  know  his  invention  will  reduce  the  price  of 
light,  heat  and  power  to  one-tenth  of  what  it  is  now,  and  Mr.  Spauld 
ing  wants  the  price  to  be  brought  down  to  that  one-tenth  instead  of 
to  simply  one-half,  as  might  be  the  case  if  others  gained  control  of 
his  patent." 

"Has  he  organized  his  company?" 

"Yes,  and  the  plant  will  be  in  operation  within  a  few  months." 

"You  may  possibly  be  asked  to  assume  management  of  the  con 
cern,  Mr.  Whiting." 

"I  have  been  asked,  and  I  have  accepted." 

"With  a  decided  increase  in  salary,  of  course." 

"Two  and  a  half  times  as  much  as  I  am  receiving  now." 

"You  deserve  it,  Mr.  Whiting.  And  I  am  glad,  far  more  than 
I  can  ever  say.  Yours  was  the  first  hand  to  lead  me  out  of  darkness, 
failure  and  despair.  You  pointed  to  me  the  way — the  way  that  has 
made  you  what  you  are,  the  way  that  has  made  us  all  what  we  are, 
the  way  that  can  make  every  man  what  he  wishes  to  be.  And  know 
ing  this,  there  can  be  no  end  to  my  appreciation  and  my  gratitude. 


90 


The   Will    and   The   Way 


But  I  will  not  try  to  express  my  feelings  in  words.  I  will  act,  I  will 
do,  I  will  be.  1  will  make  of  myself  what  you  told  me  in  the  begin 
ning  was  possible  with  all  men.  I  will  be  true  to  the  dream  and  all 
of  that  dream  will  come  true.  Much  of  it  has  already  come  true, 
and  1  know  that  the  rest  will  also  come  true.  I  have  realized  my 
two  ambitions.  You  told  me  that  I  would.  You  told  me  that  all 
men  could  do  the  same.  And  you  spoke  the  truth.  In  the  beginning 
1  believed.  Now  I  know." 


Number 

This  book  is  the  property  of  the 
Pacific  Coast  Information  Bureau,  4 1  3 
Henne  Building,  Los  Angeles,  Cal.,  and 
is  loaned  for  a  period  of  twelve  months. 


How  to  become  Owner  of  thin  Book.     Read  Special 
Announcement  on  Next  Page 


Special  Announcement 

To  those  who  desire  to  ask  special  questions  in  connection 
with  the  deeper  understanding  and  the  further  applications  of 
these  vital  and  invaluable  principles  in  "Self -Help  and  Self- 
Development,"  I  invite  you  to  become  a  member  of  the  "SELF- 
HELP  LEAGUE." 

You  may,  immediately  after  you  become  a  member,  consult 
the  "Self-Help  League"  upon  any  problem  that  may  come  up  in 
your  life  or  your  work,  or  write  for  directions  with  regard  to  the 
successful  application  of  anything  that  pertains  to  your  progress 
and  welfare. 

The  privileges  you  will  enjoy  as  a  member  of  the  "Self-Help 
League"  are  many,  in  fact  almost  everything  you  can  think  of 
that  can  be  in  any  way  conducive  to  the  welfare  of  the  human 
being. 

As  soon  as  you  become  a  member  of  the  "Self -Help  League" 
you  become  the  sole  owner  of  the  book,  "The  Will  and  the  Way." 
You  will  receive  personal  direction  by  mail,  and  how  to  apply  to 
your  own  individual  case  the  principle  and  methods  as  given  in 
this  book. 

In  addition  you  will  receive  a  newly  discovered  scientific 
instrument,  "Concentre,"  which  will  aid  you  to  focus  your 
"thought-power,"  and  thereby  attain  quicker  and  better  results  in 
your  line  of  work  and  accomplishment. 

Besides  you  will  enjoy  other  privileges  which  are  too  num 
erous  to  mention. 

By  writing  to  the  "Self -Help  League"  please  use  the  number 
of  your  book,  which  after  you  join  the  League,  becomes  your 
"membership  number." 

The  membership  fee  is  $1.00  a  year. 

Thanking  you  for  your  co-operation  in  this  work  and  giving 
you  my  positive  assurance  that  the  very  best  in  my  possession  or 
power  will  be  at  your  service,  and  that  every  effort  possible  will 
be  made  to  help  all  members  to  help  themselves  to  the  fullest  and 
most  perfect  degree,  I  remain  most  sincerely, 

/frfW*0"**  truly> 

LEO.  C.  WENDE. 

,)J>1  K^ 


Addres*  all  Communications  to 

SELF  HELP  LEAGUE 

Suite  413  Hcnne  Bldg.  LOS  ANGELES,  CAL. 


WM.    •      8TRAUBE    PMINT.    LOS   ANOBLES 


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